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THE HEART OF ITSELF GONE AWAY FROM GOD ; 

BROUGHT BACK AGAIN TO HIM ; AND 

INSTRUCTED BY HIM. 

WITH THE 

LEARNING OF THE HEART; 

AND 

HIEROGLYPHICS OF THE LIFE OF MAN. 



FRANCIS QUARLES, 

m Author of " EMBLEMS, Divine and Moral.' 



Pritueti at ti)t C^tgtotcfc preg^ 

BY C. WHITTINGHAM; 

R LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN; SCATCH- 

1RD AND LETTERMAN; SUTTABY, EVANCE, AND FOX; 

BUTTON; SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES; CRADOCK 

D JOY; SHARPE AND HAILES; WILLIAMS AND SON; 

**i KNEVETT AND ARLISS, LONDON. 

1812. 



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ADVERTISEMENT. 



Pursuant to the notice given in the new Edi- 
tion of his Emblems, an edition of equal elegance 
of Quarles' School of the Heart, with his 
Hieroglyphics of the Life of Man, is now 
offered to the public. 

The pretensions of the work, intrinsically esti- 
mated, need not be enumerated now. Pope has 
declared, and jus* 7 y too, that 

' The proper study of mankind, is — man.' 

Preparatory to any due or salutary proficiency 
in this study, however, the inquirer must direct 
his serious attention to that celebrated precept 
of the Pythian Apollo — ' Nosce teipsum ;' a pre- 
cept so happily expanded by another of our na- 
tional poets, Young, where he exclaims, 

' Man, know thyself! all wisdom centres there.' 



IV ADVERTISEMENT. 

To know what man is, then, we must know his 
heart. But this lesson man cannot teach man. 
He must teach this, who only can ; yet who still 



' saves all beings but himself, 
That hideous sight— a naked human heart I* 






The School of the Heart, therefore, is the Word 
of God! They can never attain to right views of 
mankind, who have not studied the heart of man 
nor can they ever form just conceptions of the 
nature of the human heart, who have not con- 
sulted the inspired description of it. Our Author 
thus : — 

Great Searcher of The Heart ! whose boundless sight 
Discovers secrets, and doth bring to light 
The hidden things of darkness ; who alone 
Perfectly know'st all things that can be known ; 
Thou know'st I do not, cannot, have no mind 
To know mine heart : I am not only blind, 
But lame, and listless : thou alone canst make 
Me able, willing ; and the pains I take, 
As well as the success, must come from thee, 
Who workest both to will and do in me. 

Lord ! if thou wilt, thou canst impart this skill ; 
And as for other learning, take 't who will. 

INTRODUCTION, 



; 



ADVERTISEMENT. V 

1 The pride and ignorance of mankind/ says 
the Rev. C. E. De Coetlogon, in a Preface to one 
edition of this work, c may lead them to reason 
against this humbling, and, what they are pleased 
to term, gloomy representation of things! But/ 
he asks, * how absurd to reason against stubborn 
fact? We appeal to that,' he adds; c and, to ex- 
perience. We appeal to reason, as well as to re- 
velation: and both, we are persuaded, will tell us 
— that those who prate about the dignity of human 
nature, and its moral excellence, until it be re- 
newed after the image of God, which sin has 
obliterated, are only indulging the pleasures of 
imagination;' and that, accordingly, such cha- 
racters still i need much instruction in' — the 

SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

The Hieroglyphics of the Life of Man 
are so complete a picture of human nature, that 
we need only recommend them to the serious pe- 
rusal of persons in every situation in life \ and 
emphatically add, 

MAN ! LEARN TO KNOW THYSELF. 



JUST PUBLISHED, 

In One beautiful Miniature Volume, to correspond with this 
Work, and enriched with 79 Embellishments, 

PRICE 6S. BOARDS, 

EMBLEMS^ 
DIVINE AND MORAL. 



BY 

FRANCIS QUARLES. 



' Quarles and his Poetry are too well known, in the reli- 
gious world, to need our encomium. His sentiments are 
evangelical, and his poetry is full of points of wit. The pre- 
sent edition is beautifully printed by WH ITT INGHAM, and 

embel'ished with very pretty engravings on wood* Evangelical 

Magazine. 

* Criticism accords in giving to the author of these 
EMBLEMS the praise of profound knowledge, solid wisdom, 
and fervent devotion. He deserv/es more. His wit was 
bright, his discrimination of characters keen, and his sense 
deep. Notwithstanding that some of his evangelical recom- 
mendators " leave to better judges" to pronounce " what 
share of merit is due to the poet," Queries has at length ob- 
tained the laurel to which he was entitled.' Advertisement 

to the present Edition. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Introduction i 

The Infection of the Heart 5 

Tiie Taking away of the Heart 9 

The Darkness of the Heart 13 

The Absence of the Heart 1* 

The Vanity of the Heart . . . . .-■'". 21 

The Oppression of the Heart 25 

The Covetousness of the Heart . . . . . 29 

The Hardness of the Heart 33 

The Division of the Heart 37 

The Insatiableness of the Heart 41 

The Returning of the Heart 45 

The Pouring out of the Heart . . .._. . . 49 

The Circumcision of the Heart 53 

The Contrition of the Heart 5? 

The Humiliation of the Heart 6l 

The Softening of the Heart . . ... . .65 

The Cleansing of the Heart 69 

The Giving of the Heart 73 

The Sacrifice of the Heart 77 

The Weighing of the Heart . . . . . . 81 

The Trying of the Heart 85 

The Sounding of the Heart 89 

The Levelling of the Heart 93 

The Renewing of the Heart 97 



viii CONTENTS. 

Page 

The Enlightening of the Heart 101 

The Law-Table of the Heart 105 

The Tilling of the Heart ...... 109 

The Seeding of the Heart . , . . . .113 

The Watering of the Heart 117 

The Flowers of the Heart 121 

The Keeping of the Heart 125 

The Watching of the Heart 129 

The Wounding of the Heart 133 

The Inhabiting of the Heart 137 

The Enlarging of the Heart 143 

The Inflaming of the Heart 145 

The Ladder of the Heart ...... 149 

The Flying of the Heart 153 

The Union of the Heart ....... 157 

The Rest of the Heart 161 

The Bathing of the Heart, with the Bloody Sweat . 165 

The Binding of the Heart with the Cords of Christ . lfrj 

Christ's Pillar the Prop of the Heart , . r ' , 17;; 

The Scourging of the Heart 177 

The Hedging of the Heart with a Crown of Thorns . 181 

The Fastening of the Heart 185 

The New Wine of the Heart out of the Press of the Cross 189 

The Learning of the Heart 195 

The Grammar of the Heart I9G 

The Rhetoric of the Heart 197 

The Logic of the Heart 199 

HIEROGLYPHICS OF THE LIFE OF MAN . 203 



INTRODUCTION, 




Peruse this little Book ; and thou wilt see 
"\\ hat thy Heart is ? and what it ought to be. 



1 urn in, my mind, wander not abroad: 
Here's work enough at home; lay by that load 
Of scatter'd thought, that clogs and cumbers thee ; 
Resume thy long-neglected liberty 
Of self-examination: bend thine eye 
Inward; consider where thy heart doth lie, 

£ 



2 INTRODUCTION. 

How 'tis affected, how 'tis busied : look 
What thou hast writ thyself in thine own book, 
Thy conscience : here set thou thyself to school ; 
Self-knowledge, 'twixt a wise man and a fool, 
Doth make the difference; he that neglects 
This learning, sideth with his own defects. 
Dost thou draw back? Hath custom charm'd thee 
That thou canst relish nothing but thy woe? [so, 
Find'st thou such sweetness in these sugar'd lies ? 
Have foreign objects so engross'd thine eyes ? 
Canst thou not hold them off? Hast thou an ear 
To listen, but to what thou shouldst not hear? 
Art thou incapable of every thing, 
But what thy senses to thy fancy bring? 
Remember that thy birth and constitution 
Both promise better than such base confusion. 
Thy birth's divine, from Heav'n; thy composure 
Is spirit, and immortal : thine inclosure 
In walls of flesh; not to make thee debtor 
For houseroom to them, but to make them better : 
Thy body's thy freehold, live then as lord, 
Not tenant to thy own: some time afford 
To view what state 'tis in : survey each part, 
And, above all, take notice of thine heart. 
Such as that is, the rest is, or will be, 
Better or worse, blame-worthy, or fault-free. 
What! are the ruins such, thou art afraid, 
Or else asham'd, to see how 'tis decayd? 
Is't therefore thou art loath to see it such 
As now it is, because it is so much; 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

Degenerated now from what it was, 
And should have been? Thine ignorance, alas ! 
Will make it nothing better : and the longer 
Evils are suffer'd to grow, they grow the stronger : 
Or hath thy understanding lost its light? 
Hath the dark night of error dimm'd thy sight, 
So that thou canst not, though thou wouldst,observe 
All things amiss within thee, how they swerve 
From the strait rules of righteousness and reason? 
If so, omit not then this precious season : 
'Tis yet school-time ; as yet the door's not shut. 
Hark how the Master calls. Come, let us put 
Up our requests to him, whose will alone 
Limits his power of teaching, from whom none 
Returns unlearn'd, that hath once a will 
To be his scholar, and implore his skill. 
Great Searcher of the heart, whose boundless sight 
Discovers secrets, and doth bring to light 
The hidden things of darkness, who alone 
Perfectly know'st all things that can be known j 
Thou know'st I do not, cannot, have no mind 
To know mine heart : I am not only blind, 
But lame, and listless: thou alone canst make 
Me able, willing : and the pains I take, 
As well as the success, must come from thee, 
Who workest both to will and do in me : 
Having made me now willing to be taught, 
Make me as willing to learn what I ought. 
Or, if thou wilt allow thy scholar leave, 
To choose his lesson, lest I should deceive 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

Myself again, as I have done too often, 

Teach me to know my heart. Thou, thou cans 

soften, 
Lighten, enliven, purify, restore, 
And make more fruitful than it was before, 
Its hardness, darkness, death, uncleanness, loss, 
And barrenness : refine it from the dross, 
And draw out all the dregs, heal ev'ry sore, 
Teach it to know itself, and love thee more. 
Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst impart this skill 
And as for other learning, take't who will. 






SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 




THE INFECTION OF THE HEART. 

While Satan thus deceives with flatt'ring breath, 
Thy heart drinks poison in, disease, ana death. 

ACTS V. 3. 

Why hath Satan filled thine heart? 

Epig. 1. 

▼V hilst thou inclin'st thy voice-inveigled ear, 
The subtle serpent's syren songs to hear, 
Thy heart drinks deadly poison drawn from hell, 
And with a vip'rous brood of sin doth swell. 



6 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE I. 

The Soul. 
Profit and pleasure, comfort, and content, 
Wisdom, and honour; and, when these are spent, 
A fresh supply of more ! Oh heav'nly words ! 
Are these the dainty fruits that this fair tree affords ? 

The Serpent. 
Yes, these and many more, if more may be, 
All that this world contains, in this one tree 
Contracted is. Take but a taste, and try ; 
Thou may's t believe thyself, experience cannot lie. 

The Soul. 
But thou may'st lie : and, with a false pretence 
Of friendship, rob me of that excellence 
Which my Creator's bounty hath bestow'd, 
And freely given me, to whom he nothing ow'd. 

The Serpent. 
Strange composition! so credulous, 
And at the same time so suspicious! 
This is the tree of knowledge ; and until 
Thou eat thereof, how canst thou know what's 
good or ill? 

The Soul. 
God infinitely good my Maker is, 
Who neither will nor can do aught amiss. 
The being I receiv'd, was that he sent, 
And therefore I am sure must needs be excellent. 



THE HEART. ' 

The Serpent. 
Suppose it be: yet doubtless he that gave 
Thee such a being must himself needs have 
A better far, more excellent by much: [such. 
Or else be sure that he could not have made thee. 

The Soul. 
Such as he made me, I am well content 
Still to continue : for, if he had meant 
I should enjoy a better state, he could 
As easily have giv'n it, if he would. 

The Serpent. 
And is it not all one, if he have giv'n 
The means to get it? Must he still be driv'n 
To new works of creation for thy sake? [take? 
Wilt thou not what he sets before thee deign to 

The Soul. 
Yes, of the fruits of all the other trees 
I freely take and eat : they are the fees 
Allow'd me for the dressing, by the Maker: 
But of this fatal fruit I must not be partaker. 

The Serpent. 
And why? What danger can it be to eat 
That which is good, being ordain'd for meat? 
What wilt thou say ? God made it not for food ? 
Or dar'st thou think that, made by him, it is not 
good? 



3 THE SCHOOL OF 

The Soul. 
Yes, good it is, no doubt, and good for meat: 
But I am not allow'd thereof to eat. 
My Maker's prohibition, under pain 
Of death, the day I eat thereof, makes me refrain. 

The Serpent. 
Faint-hearted fondling! canst thou fear to die, 
Being a spirit and immortal? Fie. 
God knows this fruit once eaten will refine 
Thy grosser parts alone, and make thee all-divine. 

The Soul. 
There's something in it, sure : were it not good, 
It had not in the midst of the garden stood : 
And being good, I can no more refrain 
From wishing, than I can the fire to burn, restrain. 

Why do I trifle then? What I desire 

Why do I not? Nothing can quench the fire 

Of longing, but fruition. Come what will, 

Eat it I must, that I may know what's good and ill. 

The Serpent. 
So, thou art taken now : that resolution 
Gives an eternal date to thy confusion. 
The knowledge thou hast got of good and ill, 
Is of good gone, and past; of evil, present still. 



THE HEART. 







THE TAKING AWAY OF THE HEART. 

While lust and wine their beastly joys impart, 
The mind grows dead ; the heart's without a heart. 

HOS. IV. 11. 

Whoredom and wine, and new wine, take away the 
heart. 

Efig. °2. 

-Base lust and luxury, the scum and dross 
Of hell-born pleasures, please thee, to the loss 
Of thy soul's precious eyesight, reason; so 
Mindless thy mind, heartless thine heart doth grow. 



10 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE II. 

Laid down already? and so fast asleep? 

Thy precious heart left loosely on thine hand, 
Which with all diligence thou shouldst keep, 

And guard against those enemies, that stand 
Ready prepar'd to plunge it in the deep 

Of all distress? Rouse thee, and understand 
In time, what in the end thou must confess, 
That misery at last and wretchedness 
Is all the fruit that springs from slothful idleness. 

Whilst thou liest soaking in security, 

Thou drown'st thyself in sensual delight, 
And wallow'st in debauched luxury, 

Which, when thou art awake and seest, will 
fright 
Thine heart with horror. When thou shalt descry, 
By the daylight, the danger of the night, 
Then, then, if not too late, thou wilt confess, 
That endless misery and wretchedness 
Is all the fruit that springs from riotous excess. 

Whilst 'thou dost pamper thy proud flesh, and 
thrust 

Into thy paunch the prime of all thy store, 
Thou dost but gather fuel for that lust, 

Which, boiling in thy liver, runneth o'er, 
And frieth in thy throbbing veins, which must 

Needs vent, or burst, when they can hold no more. 



THE HEART. 11 

But oh, consider what thou shalt confess 
At last, that misery and wretchedness 
Is all the fruit that springs from lustful wanton- 
ness. 

Whilst thou dost feed effeminate desires 
With spumy pleasures, whilst fruition 
The coals of lust fans into naming fires, 
And spurious delights thou dotest on, 
Thy mind through cold remissness e'en expires, 
And all the active vigour of it's gone, 
Take heed in time, or else thou shalt confess 
At last, that misery and wretchedness 
Is all the fruit that springs from careless-minded- 
ness. 

Whilst thy regardless sense-dissolved mind 
Lies by unbent, that should have been thy 
spring 
Of motion, all thy headstrong passions find 
Themselves let loose, and follow their own 
swing; 
Forgetful of the great account behind, 
As though there never would be such a thing, 
But, when it comes indeed, thou wilt confess 
That misery alone and wretchedness 
Is all the fruit that springs from soul-forgetful- 
ness. 



12 THE SCHOOL OF 

Whilst thou remember'st not thy latter end, 

Nor what a reck'ning thou one day must make, 
Putting no difference 'twixt foe and friend, 

Thou suffer'st hellish fiends thine heart to take ; 
Who, all the while thou triflest, do attend, 
Keady to bring it to the lake 

Of fire and brimstone : where thou shalt con- 
fess 
That endless misery and wretchedness 
Is all the fruit that springs from stupid heartless- 
ness* 



THE HEART. 



13 




THE DARKNESS OF THE HEART. 

O the heart's darkness ! which, without my light, 
Would lead to deeper glooms, and endless night. 

ROM. I. £1. 

Their foolish heart was darkened. 

Epig. 3. 

ouch cloudy shadows have eclips'd thine heart, 
As nature cannot parallel, nor art : 
Unless thou take my light of truth to guide thee, 
Blackness of darkness will at length betide thee. 



14 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE III. 
Tarry, O tarry, lest thine heedless haste 
Hurry thee headlong unto hell at last : 

See, see, thine heart's already half-way there \ 
Those gloomy shadows that encompass it, 
Are the vast confines of th' infernal pit. 

O stay ; and if thou lov'st not light, yet fear 
That fatal darkness, where 
Such danger doth appear. 

A night of ignorance hath overspread 
Thy mind and understanding: thou art led 

Blindfolded by unbridled passion : 
Thou wand'rest in the crooked ways of error, 
Leading directly to the king of terror: 
The course thou tak'st, if thou holdest on, 
Will bury thee anon 
In deep destruction. 

Whilst thou art thus deprived of thy sight, 
Thou know'st no difF'rence between noon and 
night, 

Though the sun shine, yet thou regard'st it not. 
My love-alluring beauty cannot draw thee, 
Nor doth my mind-amazing terror awe thee: 
Like one that had both good and ill forgot, 
Thou carest not a jot 
What falleth to thy lot. 



THE HEART. 15 

Thou art become unto thyself a stranger, 
Observest not thine own desert, or danger ; 
Thou know'st not what thou dost, nor canst 
thou tell 
Whither thou goest : shooting in the dark, 
How canst thou ever hope to hit the mark? 
What expectation hast thou to do welJ, 
That art content to dwell 
Within the verge of hell? 

Alas, thou hast not so much knowledge left, 
As to consider that thou art bereft 

Of thine own eyesight. But thou run's t, as 
though 
Thou sawest all before thee : whilst thy mind 
To nearest necessary things is blind. 
Thou knowest nothing as thou ought'st to know, 
Whilst thou esteemest so 
The things that are below. 

Would ever any, that had eyes, mistake 
As thou art wont to do : no difference make 

Betwixt the way to Heaven and to hell? 
But, desperately devoted to destruction, 
Rebel against the light, abhor instruction? 
As though thou didst desire with death to dwellf 
Thou hatest to hear tell 
How yet thou may'st do well. 



16 THE SCHOOL OF 

Oh that thou didst but see how blind thou art, 
And feel the dismal darkness of thine heart! 

Then wouldst thou labour for, and I would lend 
My light to guide thee : that'st not light alone, 
But life, eyes, sight, grace, glory, all in one. 
Then shouldst thou know whither those bye- 
ways bend, 
And that death in the end 
On darkness doth attend. 



THE HEART. 



17 




THE FLIGHT OF THE HEART. 
Where's thy heart flown? if thou a heart hast got, 
Who both thyself and me rememb'rest not. 

THE ABSENCE OF THE HEART. 

PROV. XVII. 16. 

Wherefore is there a price in the hand ef a fool to 
get wisdom, seeing he hath no heart to it? 

Epjg, 4. 

H-adst thou an heart, thou fickle fugitive, 
How would thine heart hate and disdain to live 
Mindful of such vain trifles as these be ! 



18 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE IV. 

The Soul. 

Brave, dainty, curious, rare, rich, precious things ! 
Able to make fate-blasted mortals blest, 
Peculiar treasures, and delights for kings, 
That having pow'r of all, would choose the best. 
How do I hug mine happiness, that have 
Present possession of what others crave! 

Christ. 

Poor, silly, simple, sense-besotted soul, 
Why dost thou hug thy self-procured woes? 
Release thy freeborn thoughts, at least control 
Those passions that enslave thee to thy foes. 

How wouldst thou hate thyself, if thou didst 
know 

The baseness of those things thou prizest so ! 

The Soul. 

They talk of goodness, virtue, piety, 

Religion, honesty, I know not what; 

So let them talk for me : so long as I 

Have goods and lands, and gold and jewels, that 
Both equal and excel all other treasure, 
Why should I strive to make their pain my 
pleasure? 



THE HEART. 19 

Christ. 
So swine neglect the pearls that lie before them, 
Trample them under foot, and feed on draff: 
So fools gild rotten idols, and adore them, 
Cast all the corn away, and keep the chaff. 

That ever reason should be blinded so; 

To grasp the shadow, let the substance go ! 

The Soul. 
All's but opinion that the world accounts 
Matter of worth : as this or that man sets 
A value on it, so the price amounts : 
The sound of strings is vary'd by the frets, 
My mind's my kingdom: why should I with- 
stand, 
Or question that, which I myself command? 

Christ. 
Thy tyrant passions captivate thy reason : 
Thy lusts usurp the guidance of the mind : 
Thy sense-led fancy barters good for geason : 
Thy seed is vanity, thine harvest wind : 
Thy rules are crooked, and thou writ's t awry : 
Thy ways are wand'ring, and thy mind to die. 

TJie Soul. 
This table sums me myriads of pleasure; 
That book enrols mine honour's inventory : 
These bags are stuff 'd with millions of treasure: 
Those writings evidence my state of glory: 



20 THE SCHOOL OF 

These bells ring heav'nly music in mine ears, 
To drown the noise of cumbrous cares and 
fears. 

Christ. 
Those pleasures one day will procure thy pain : 
That which thou gloriest in, will be thy shame : 
Thou'lt find thy loss in what thou thought'st thy 

gain: 
Thine honour will put on another name. 
That music, in the close, will ring thy knell; 
Instead of heaven, toll thee into hell. 

But why do I thus waste my words in vain 
On one that's wholly taken up with toys ; 
That will not lose one dram of earth, to gain 
A full eternal weight of heav'nly joys? 
All's to no purpose: 'tis as good forbear, 
As speak to one that hath no heart to hear. 



THE HEART. 



21 




THE VANITY OF THE HEART. 

Blown up with honour's wind, the heart grows vain, 
Though a great nothing is the whole you gain. 

JOB XV. 31. 

Let not him that is deceived trust in vanity, for 
vanity shall be his recommence, 

Epig. 5. 

Ambition bellows with the wind of honour, 
Puffs up the swelling heart that dotes upon her : 
Which, filPd with empty vanity, breathes forth 
Nothing, but such things as are nothing worth. 



22 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE V. 

The bane of kingdoms, world's disquieter, 
Hell's heir-apparent, Satan's eldest son, 
Abstract of ills, refin'd elixir, 
And quintessence of sin, ambition, 
Sprung from th' infernal shades, inhabits here, 
Making man's heart its horrid mansion, 

Which, though it were of vast extent before, 
Is now puff'd up, and swells still more and 
more. 

Whole armies of vain thoughts it entertains, 
Is stuff 'd with dreams of kingdoms, and of crowns, 
Presumes of profit without care or pains, 
Threatens to baffle all its foes with frowns, 
In ev'ry bargain makes account of gains, 
Fancies such frolic mirth as chokes and drowns 
The voice of conscience, whose loud alarms 
Cannot be heard for pleasure's countercharms. 

Wer't not for anger, and for pity, who 
Could choose but smile to see vain-glorious men 
Racking their wits, straining their sinews so, 
That, thorough their transparent thinness, when 
They meet with wind and sun, they quickly grow 
Hi v 'led and dry, shrink till they crack, again, 

And all but to seem greater than they are? 

Stretching their strength, they lay their weak- 
ness bare. 



THE HEART* 23 

See how hell's fueller his bellows plies, 
Blowing the fire that burnt too fast before : 
See how the furnace flames, the sparkles rise 
And spread themselves abroad still more and more ! 
See how the doting soul hath fix'd her eyes 
On her dear fooleries, and doth adore, 

With hands and heart lift up, those trifling toys 
"Wherewith the devil cheats her of her joys I 

Alas, thou art deceiv'd ; that glitt'ring crown, \ 
On which thou gazest, is not gold but grief; 
That sceptre, sorrow : if thou take them down, 
And try them, thou shalt find what poor relief 
They could afford thee, though they were thine 

own. 
Didst thou command e'en all the world in chief, 
Thy comforts would abate, thy cares increase, 
And thy perplexed thoughts disturb thy peace. 

Those pearls so thorough pierc'd, and strung to- 
gether, 
Though jewels in thine ears they may appear, 
Will prove continu'd perils, when the weather 
Is clouded once, which yet is fair and clear. 
What will that fan, though of the finest feather, 
Stead thee, the brunt of winds and storms to bear ? 
Thy flagging colours hang their drooping head, 
And the shrill trumpet's sound shall strike thee 
dead. 



24 THE SCHOOL OF 

Were all those balls, which thou in sport dost toss, 
Whole worlds, and in thy power to command, 
The gain would never countervail the loss, 
Those slipp'ry globes will glide out of thine hand ; 
Thou canst have no fast hold but of the cross, 
And thou wilt fall, where thou dost think to stand. 
Forsake these follies, then, if thou wilt live : 
Timely repentance may thy death reprieve. 



THE HEART. 



"25 




THE OPPRESSION OF THE HEART. 

With gluttony and drunkenness possessed; 

Bj' heaviest weights the heav'n-born heart's oppress'd. 

LUKE XXI. 34. 

Take heed, lest at any time your hearts be over- 
charged with surfeiting and drunkenness, 

Epig. 6, 

1 wo massy weights, surfeiting, drunkenness, 
Like mighty logs of lead, do so oppress 
The heav'n-born hearts of men, that to aspire 
Upwards they have nor power nor desire. 



i'6 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE VI. 

Monster of sins ! See how th* enchanted soul, 

O'ercharg'd already calls for more. 
See how the hellish skinker plies his bowl, 
And 's ready furnished with store, 
Whilst cups on every side 
Planted, attend the tide. 

See how the piled dishes mounted stand, 

Like hills advanced upon hills, 
And the abundance both of sea and land 
Doth not suffice, e'en what it fills, 
Man's dropsy appetite, 
And cormorant delight. 

See how the poison'd body's puff'd and swelPd, 

The face inflamed glows with heat, 

The limbs unable are themselves to wield, 

The pulses (death's alarm) do beat ; 

Yet man sits still, and laughs, 

Whilst his own bane he quaffs. 

But where's thine heart the while, thou senseless 
sot? 
Look how it lieth crush'd and quell'd, 
Flat beaten to the board, that it cannot 
Move from the place where it is held, 
Nor upward once aspire 
With heavenly desire. 



THE HEART. 27 

Thy belly is thy god, thy shame thy glory, 

Thou mindest only earthly things ; 
And all thy pleasure is but transitory, 

Which grief at last and sorrow brings : 
The courses thou dost take 
Will make thine heart to ache. 



Is't not enough to spend thy precious time 

In empty idle compliment, 
Unless thou strain (to aggravate thy crime) 
Nature beyond its own extent, 
And force it to devour 
An ase within an hour ? 



That which thou swallow'st is not lost alone, 

But quickly will revenged be, 
By seizing on thine heart, which, like a stone, 
Lies buried in the midst of thee, 
Both void of common sense 
And reason's excellence. 



Thy body is diseases' rendezvous, 

Thy mind the market-place of vice, 
The devil in thy will keeps open house : 

Thou Hv'st, as though thou wouldst entice 
Hell-torments unto thee, 
And thine own devil be. 



28 THE SCHOOL OF 

O what a dirty dunghill art thou grown, 

A nasty stinking kennel foul! 
When thou awak'st and seest what thou hast done, 
Sorrow will swallow up thy soul, 
To think how thou art foiPd, 
And all thy glory spoil'd. 

Or if thou canst not be asham'd, at least 

Have some compassion on thyself: 
Before thou art transformed all to beast, 
At last strike sail, avoid the shelf 
Which in that gulf doth lie, 
Where all that enter die, 



THE HEART. 



29 




THE COVETOUSNESS OF THE HEART. 

Here, wand'rer, may'st thou find thy heart at last ; 
Where what is dearer than thy heart is plac'd. 

MATT. VI. 21. 

' Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also, 
Epig. 7. 

Dost thou inquire, thou heartless wanderer, 
Where thine heart is? Behold, thine heart is here, 
Here thine heart is, where that is which above 
Thine own dear heart thou dost esteem and love. 



BO THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE VII. 

See the deceitfulness of sin, 
And how the devil cheateth worldly men : 
They heap up riches to themselves, and then 

They think they cannot choose but win, 
Though for their parts 
They stake their hearts. 

The merchant sends his heart to sea, 
And there, together with his ship, 'tis tost: 
If this by chance miscarry, that is lost, 
His confidence is cast away : 
He hangs the head, 
As he were dead. 

The pedlar cries, What do you lack? 
What will your buy? and boasts his wares the 

best: 
But offers you the refuse of the rest, 

As though his heart lay in his pack, 
Which greater gain 
Alone can drain. 

The ploughman furrows up his land, 
And sows his heart together with his seed, 
Which, both alike earth-born, on earth do feed, 
And prosper, or are at a stand : 
He and his field 
Like fruit do yield. 



THE HEART. 31 

The broker and the scriv'ner have 
The us'rer's heart in keeping with his bands: 
His soul's dear sustenance lies in their hands, 

And if they break, their shop's his grave. 
His int'rest is N 
His only bliss. 

The money-hoarder in his bags 
Binds up his heart, and locks it in his chest; 
The same key serves to that, and to his breast, 
Which of no other heaven brags : 
Nor can conceit 
A joy so great. 

So for the greedy landmonger : 
The purchases he makes in ev'ry part 
Take livery and seisin of his heart : 
Yet his insatiate hunger, 
For all his store, 
Gapes after more. 

Poor wretched muckworms, wipe your 
eyes, 
Uncase those trifles that besot you so : 
Your rich-appearing wealth is real woe, 
Your death in your desires lies. 

Your hearts are where ~ - 

You love and fear. 






32 THE SCHOOL OF 

Oh think not then the world deserves 
Either to be belov'd or fear'd by you : 
Give heaven these affections as its due, 

Which always what it hath preserves 
In perfect bliss 
That endless is. 



THE HEART. 



33 




THE OPENING OF THE HEART WITH THE SPEAR. 
This spear, dear Lord, that's dy'd with blood of thine, 
Pierces my heart with wounds of love divine. 

THE HARDNESS OF THE HEART. 

ZECH. VII. 12. 

They made their hearts as hard as an adamant stone, 
lest they should hear the law. 

Epig. 8. 

Words move thee not, nor gifts, nor strokes; 
Thy sturdy adamantine heart provokes 
My justice, slights my mercies: anvil-like, 
Thou stand'st unmoved, though my hammer strike. 



34 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE VIII. 

What have we here? An heart? It looks like one, 
The shape and colour speak it such : 
But, having brought it to the touch, 
I find it is no better than a stone. 
Adamants are 
Softer by far. 

Long hath it steeped been in Mercy's milk, 
And soaked in Salvation, 
Meet for the alteration 
Of anvils, to have made them soft as silk ; 
Yet it is still 
Harden'd in ill. 

Oft have I rain'd my word upon it, oft 
The dew of Heaven has distill'd, 
With promises of mercy fill'd, 
Able to make mountains of marble soft : 
Yet it is not 
Changed a jot. 

My beams of love shine on it every day, 
Able to thaw the thickest ice; 
And, where they enter in a trice, 
To make congealed crystal melt away : 
Yet warm they not 
This frozen clot. 



THE HEART. 35 

Nay more, this hammer, that is wont to grind 
Rocks into dust, and powder small, 
Makes no impression at all, 
Nor dint, nor crack, nor flaw, that I can find : 
But leaves it as 
Before it was. 



Is mine almighty arm decay'd in strength? 

Or hath mine hammer lost its weight? 
That a poor lump of earth should slight 
My mercies, and not feel my wrath at length, 
With which I make 
E'en Heav'n to shake! 



No, I am still the same, I alter not, 

And, when I please, my works of wonder 
Shall bring the stoutest spirits under, 
And make them to confess it is their lot 
To bow or break, 
When I but speak. 



But I would have men know, 'tis not my word 
Or works alone can change their hearts; 
These instruments perforin their parts, 
But 'tis my Spirit doth this fruit afford. 
'Tis I, not art, 
Can melt man's heart. 



36 THE SCHOOL OF 

Yet would they leave their customary sinning, 
And so unclinch the devil's claws, 
That keeps them captive in his paws, 
My bounty soon should second that beginning : 
E'en hearts of steel 
My force should feel. 



THE HEART, 



37 




THE DIVISION OF THE HEART. 

Why dost thou give but half thine heart to me, 
"When my whole self I offer'd up for thee? 

HOS. X. °2. 

Thine heart is divided. Noiv shall they he found 
faulty. 

Epig. 9. 

tain trifling virgin, I myself have given 
Wholly to thee: and shall I now be driven 
To rest contented with a petty part, 
That have deserved more than a whole heart? 



THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE IX. 



More mischief yet? was't not enough before 
To rob me wholly of thine heart, 
Which I alone 
Should call mine own, 
But thou must mock me with a part? 
Crown injury with scorn, to make it more? 

What's a whole heart? Scarce flesh enough to serve 
A kite one breakfast : how much less, 
If it should be 
Offer'd to me, 
Could it sufficiently express 
What I for making it at first deserve? 

I gav't thee whole, and fully furnished 
With all its faculties entire ; 
There wanted not 
The smallest jot 
That strictest justice could require, 
To render it completely perfected. 

And is it reason what I give in gross 

Should be retum'd but by retail ? 
To take so small 
A part for all, 
I reckon of no more avail 
Than, where I scatter gold, to gather dross. 



THE HEART. 

Give me thine heart but as I gave it thee : 
Or give it me at least as I 
Have given mine 
To purchase thine* 
I halv'd it not when I did die ; 
But gave myself wholly to set thee free. 



The heart I gave thee was a living heart; 

And when thy heart by sin was slain, 
I laid down mine 
To ransom thine, 
That thy dead heart might live again, 
And live entirely perfect, not in part. 



But whilst thine heart's divided, it is dead; 
Dead unto me, unless it live 
To me alone, 
It is all one 
To keep all, and a part to give: 
For what's a body worth without an head ! 



Yet this is worse, that what thou keep'st from me 
Thou dost bestow upon my foes: 
And those not mine ^ 
Alone, but thine ; 
The proper causes of thy woes, 
From whom I gave my life to set thee free. 



40 THE SCHOOL OF 

Have I betroth'd thee to myself, and shall 
The devil, and the world, intrude 
Upon my right, 
E'en in my sight? 
Think not thou canst me so delude: 
I will have none, unless I may have all. 

I made it all, I gave it all to thee, 
I gave all that I had for it : 
If I must lose, 
I'd rather choose 
Mine interest in all to quit : 
Or keep it whole, or give it whole to me. 



THE HEART. 



41 




THE INSATIABILITY OF THE HEART. 

The world won't do : — thy heart's but empty still ; 
The Trinity must that triangle fill. 

HAB. II. 5. 

Who enlargeth his desire as hell, and is as death, 
and cannot be satisfied. 

Epig. 10. 

1 he whole round world is not enough to fill 
The heart's three corners, but it craveth still, 
Only the Trinity, that made it, can 
Suffice the vast triangled heart of man. 



42 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE X. 

The thirsty earth and barren womb cry, give : 
The grave devoureth all that live: 

The fire still burnetii on, and never saith, 
It is enough: The horse-leech hath 

Many more daughters : but the heart of man 

Outgapes them all as much as Heav'n one span. 

Water hath drown'd the earth : the barren womb 
Hath teem'd sometimes, and been the tomb 

To its own swelling issue : and the grave 
Shall one day a sick surfeit have : 

When all the fuel is consum'd, the fire 

Will quench itself, and of itself expire. 

But the vast heart of man's insatiate, 
His boundless appetites dilate 

Themselves beyond all limits, his desires 
Are endless still; whilst he aspires 

To happiness, and fain would find that treasure 

Where it is not; his wishes know no measure. 

His eye with seeing is not satisfied, 

Nor's ear with hearing : he hath try'd 

At once to furnish ev'ry sev'ral sense, 

With choice of curious objects, whence 

He might extract, and into one unite, 

A perfect quintessence of all delight. 



THE HEART. 43 

Yet, having all that he can fancy, still 

There wanted more to fill 
His empty appetite. His mind is vex'd, 

And he is inwardly perplex'd, 
He knows not why: when as the truth is this, 
He would find something there, where nothing is. 

He rambles over all the faculties, 

Ransacks the secret treasuries 

Of art and nature, spells the uni verse 
Letter by letter, can rehearse 

All the records of time, pretends to know 

Reasons of all things, why they must be so. 

Yet is not so contented, but would fain 
Pry in God's cabinet, and gain 

Intelligence from Heav'n of things to come, 
Anticipate the day of doom, 

And read the issues of all actions so, 

As if God's secret counsel he did know. 

Let him have all the wealth, all the renown, 
And glory, that the world can crown 

Her dearest darlings with ; yet his desire 
Will not rest there, but still aspire. 

Earth cannot hold him, nor the whole creation 

Contain his wishes, or his expectation. 



44 THE SCHOOL OF 

The heart of man's but little ; yet this All, 
Compared thereunto, is but small, 

Of such a large unparallel'd extense 

Is the short-lin'd circumference, 

Of that three-corner'd figure, which to fill 

With the round world, is to leave empty still. 

So, greedy soul, address thyself to Heav'n 
And leave the world, as 'tis bereav'n 

Of all true happiness, or any thing 

That to thine heart content can bring, 

But there a tri-une God in glory sits, 

Who all grace-thirsting hearts both fills and fits. 



THE HEART. 



45 




THE RETURNING OF THE HEART. 

Not to return, so often call'd, will be 
Thy certain ruin ; come, be rul'd by me. 

ISAIAH XLVI. 8. 

Remember this, and shew yourselves like men: 
bring it again to heart, O ye transgressors. 

Epig. 11. 

Oft have I call'd thee : O return at last, 
Return unto thine heart : let the time past 
Suffice thy wanderings : know that to cherish 
Revolting still, is a mere will to perish./ 



46 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XI. 

Christ. 
Return, O wanderer, return, return. 
Let me not always waste my words in vain, 
As I have done too long. Why dost thou spurn 
And kick the counsels that should bring thee back 
again. 

The Soul. 
What's this that checks my course? Methinks I feel 
A cold remissness seizing on my mind : 
My stagger'd resolutions seem to reel, 
As tho' they had in haste forgot mine heart behind. 

Christ. 
Return, O wanderer, return, return. 
Thou art already gone too far away, 
It is enough : unless thou mean to burn 
In hell for ever, stop thy course at last, and stay. 

The Soul. 
There's something holds me back, I cannot move 
Forward one foot: methinks, the more I strive, 
The less I stir. Is there a Pow'r above 
My will in me, that can my purposes reprieve? 

Christ. 
No power of thine own : 'tis I, that lay 
Mine hand upon thine haste ; whose will can make 
The restless motions of the Heavens stay : 
Stand still, turn back again, or new-found courses 
take. 



THE HEART. 47 

The Soul. 
What? am I riveted, or rooted here? 
That neither forward, nor on either side 
I can get loose? then there's no hope, I fear; 
But I must back again, whatever me betide. 

Christ, 
And back again thou shalt. I'll have it so. 
Though thou hast hitherto my voice neglected, 
Now I have handed thee, I'll let thee know, 
That what I will have done shall not be uneffected. 

The Soul. 
Thou wilt prevail then, and I must return. 
But how? or whither? when a world of shame 
And sorrow lies before me, and I burn 
With horror in myself to think upon the same. 

Shall I return to thee? Alas, I have 

No hope to be receiv'd : a runaway, 

A rebel to return ! Madmen may rave 

Of mercy-miracles, but what will Justice say? 

Shall I return to mine own heart? Alas, 
'Tis lost, and dead, and rotten long ago, 
I cannot find it what at first it was, 
\ And it hath been too long the cause of all my woe. 



48 THE SCHOOL OF 

Shall I forsake my pleasures and delights, 
My profits, honours, comforts, and contents, 
For that, the thought whereof my mind affrights, 
Repentant sorrow, that the soul asunder rents ? 

Shall I return, that cannot though I would? 
I, that had strength enough to go astray, 
Find myself faint and feeble, how I should 
Return. I cannot run, I cannot creep this way. 

What shall I do? Forward I must not go, 
Backward I cannot : If I tarry here, 
I shall be drowned in a world of woe, 
And antedate my own damnation by despair. 

But is't not better hold that which I have, 
Than unto future expectation trust? 
Oh no : to reason thus is but to rave. 
Therefore return I will, because return I must. 

Christ* 
Return, and welcome: if thou wilt, thou shalt: 
Although thou canst not of thyself, yet I, 
That call, can make thee able. Let the fault 
Be mine, if, when thou wilt return, I let thee lie. 



THE HEART. 



49 




THE POURING OUT OF THE HEART. 

Thy vows and wounds conceal not in thy breast ; 
Pour out thy heart to God; he'li give thee rest. 

LAM. II. 19. 

Pour out thine heart like water before the face of 
the Lord, 

Epig. 12. 

Why dost thou hide thy wounds? why dost thou 
In thy close breast thy wishes, and so side [hide 
With thine own fears and sorrows ? Like a spout 
Of water, let thine heart to God break out. 

E 



50 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XII. 

The Soul. 
Can death, or hell, be worse than this estate? 
Anguish, amazement, horror, and confusion, 
Drown my distracted mind in deep distress. 
My grief's grown so transcendent, that I hate 
To hear of comfort, as a false conclusion 
Vainly infer'd from feigned premises. 

What shall I do ? What strange course shall I try, 
That, though I loathe to live, yet dare not die? 

Christ. 
Be rul'd by me, I'll teach thee such a way, 
As that thou shalt not only drain thy mind 
From that destructive deluge of distress 
That overwhelms thy thoughts, but clear the day, 
And soon recover light and strength, to find 
And to regain thy long-lost happiness. 

Confess, and pray. Say, what it is doth ail thee, 
What thou wouldst have, and that shall soon 
avail thee. 

The Soul. 
Confess and pray? If that be all, I will. 
Lord, I am sick, and thou art health, restore me. 
Lord, I am weak,and thou art strength, sustain me. 
Thou art all goodness, Lord, and I all ill. 
Thou, Lord, art holy ; I unclean before thee. 
Lord, I am poor; and thou art rich, maintain me. 



THE HEART. M 

Lord, I am dead; and thou art life, revive me. 
Justice condemns ; let mercy, Lord, reprieve 
me. 

A wretched miscreant I am, composed 
Of sin and misery; 'tis hard to say, 
Which of the two allies me most to hell : 
Native corruption makes me indisposed 
To all that's good; but apt to go astray, 
Prone to do ill, unable to do well ; 
My light is darkness, and my liberty 
Bondage, my beauty foul deformity. 

A plague of leprosy o'erspreadeth all 
My pow'rs and faculties: I am unclean, 
I am unclean: my liver broils with lust; 
Rancour and malice overflow my gall ; 
Envy my bones doth rot, and keeps me lean ; 
Revengeful wrath makes me forget what's just : 
Mine ear's uncircumcis'd, mine eye is evil, 
And hating goodness makes me parcel devil. 

My callous conscience is cauteriz'd ; 
My trembling heart shakes with continual fear: 
My frantic passions fill my mind with madness : 
My windy thoughts with pride are tympaniz'd : 
My pois'nous tongue spits venom every-where: 
My wounded spirit's swallow d up with sadness: 
Impatient discontentment plagues me so, 
I neither can stand still nor forward go. 



52 THE SCHOOL OF 

Lord, I am all diseases: hospitals, 

And bills of mountebanks, have not so many, 

Nor half so bad. Lord, hear, and help, and 

heal me. 
Although my guiltiness for vengeance calls, 
And colour of excuse I have not any, 
Yet thou hast goodness, Lord, that may avail 

me. 
Lord, I have pour'd out all my heart to thee : 
Vouchsafe one drop of mercy unto me. 



THE HEART. 



53 




¥: 



THE CIRCUMCISION OF THE HEART. 

The cross, the nails, the spear, each give a part, 
^ To, form this knife, to circumcise thine heart. 

DEUT. X. 16. 

Circumcise the foreskin of your heart, and be no 
more stiff-necked. 

Epig. 13. , 

Here, take thy Saviour's cross, the nails and spear, 
That for thy sake his holy flesh did tear : 
Use them as knives thine heart to circumcise, 
And dress thy God a pleasing sacrifice. 



54 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XIII. 

Heal thee? I will. But first I'll let thee know 

What it comes to. 

The plaister was prepared long ago: 

But thou must do 

Something thyself, that it may be 

Effectually applied to thee. 

I, to that end, that I might cure thy sores, 

Was slain, and died, 
By mine own people was turn'd out of doors, 
And crucified : 
My side was pierced with a spear, 
And nails my hands and feet did tear. 

Do thou then to thyself, as they to me : 

Make haste, and try, 
The old man, that's yet alive in thee, 
To crucify. 
Till he be dead in thee, my blood 
Is like to do thee little good. 

My course of physic is to cure the soul, 

By killing sin. 
So then thine own corruptions to control 
Thou must begin. 
Until thine heart be circumcis'd, 
My death will not be duly priz'd. 



THE HEART. .DO 

Consider then my cross, my nails, and spea^ 

And let that thought 
Cut, razor-like, thine heart, when thou dost hear 
How dear I bought 
Thy freedom from the pow'r of sin, 
And that distress which thou wast in* 

Cut out the iron sinew of thy neck, 

That it may be 
Supple, and pliant to obey my beck, 
And learn of me. 
Meekness alone, and yielding, hath 
A power to appease my wrath. 

Shave off thine hairy scalp, those curled locks 

Powder'd with pride, 
Wherewith thy scornful heart my judgments 
mocks, 
And thinks to hide 
Its thunder-threaten'd head, which bared 
Alone is likely to be spar'd. 

Rip off those seeming robes, but real rags, 

Which earth admires 
As honourable ornaments and brags 

That it attires ; 
Which cumber thee indeed. Thy sores 
Fester with what the world adores. 



56 THE SCHOOL OF 

Ciip thine ambitious wings, let down thy plumes, 

And learn to stoop, 
Whilst thou hast time to stand. Who still presumes 

Of strength, will droop 
At last, and flag when he should fly. 
Falls hurt them most that climb most high. 

Scrape off that scaly scurf of vanities 

That clogs thee so : 
Profits and pleasures are those enemies 
That work thy woe. 
If thou wilt have me cure thy wounds, 
First rid each humour that abounds. 



THE HEART. 



57 




THE CONTRITION OF THE HEART. 

In thousand pieces would I break this heart, 
Which leaves its Lord, and acts a rebel's part. 

PSALM LI. 17. 

A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt 
not despise. 
Epig. 14. 
How gladly would I bruise and break this heart 
Into a thousand pieces, till the smart 
Make it confess, that, of its own accord, 
It wilfully rebell'd against the Lord! 



58 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XIV. 

Lord, if I had an arm of pow'r like thine, 
And could effect what I desire, 
My love-drawn heart, like smallest wire 
Bended and writhen, should together twine 
And twisted stand 
With thy command: 
Thou shouldst no sooner bid, but I would go, 
Thou shouldst not will the thing I would not do. 



But I am weak, Lord, and corruption strong : 
When I would fain do what I should, 
Then I cannot do what I would : 
Mine action's short, when mine intention's long ; 
Though my desire 
Be quick as fire, 
Yet my performance is as dull as earth, 
And stifles its own issue in the birth. 



But what I can do, Lord, I will; since what 
I would, I cannot; I will try 
Whether mine heart, that's hard and dry, 
Being calm'd, and tempered with that 
Liquor which falls 
From mine eyeballs, 
Will work more pliantly, and yield to take 
Such new impression as thy grace shall make. 



THE HEART. 59 

In mine own conscience then, as in a mortar, 
I'll place mine heart, and bray it there : 
If grief for what is past, and fear 
Of what's to come, be a sufficient torture, 
I'll break it all 
In pieces small : 
Sin shall not And a sheard without a flaw, 
Wherein to lodge one lust against thy law. 

Remember then, mine heart, what thou hast done ; 
What thou hast left undone : the ill 
Of all my thoughts, words, deeds, is still 
Thy cursed issue only : thou art grown 
To such a pass, 
That never was, 
Nor is, nor will there be, a sin so bad, 
But thou some way therein an hand hast had. 

Thou hast not been content alone to sin, 
But hast made others sin with thee ; 
Yea, made their sins thine own to be, 
By liking, and allowing them therein. 
Who first begins, 
Or follows, sins 
Not his own sins alone, but sinneth o'er 
All the same sins, both after and before. 

What boundless sorrow can suffice a guilt 

Grown so transcendent? Should thine eye 
Weep seas of blood, thy sighs outvie 

The winds, when with the waves they run at tilt, 



60 THE SCHOOL OF 

Yet they could not 

Conceal one blot. 
The least of all thy sins against thy God 
Deserves a thunderbolt should be thy rod. 

Then since (repenting heart) thou canst not grieve 
Enough at once while thou art whole, 
Shiver thyself to dust, and dole 
Thy sorrow to the several atoms, give 
All to each part, 
And by that art 
Strive thy dissever'd self to multiply, 
And want of weight with number to supply. 



THE HEART. 



61 




THE HUMILIATION OF THE HEART. 

The heart too high its lofty pride would rear, 
If not press'd down, and kept within its sphere. 

ECCLES. VII. 9. 

The patient in spirit is better than the proud in 
spirit. 

Epig. 15. 

Mine heart, alas ! exalts itself too high, 
And doth delight a loftier pitch to fly 
Than it is able to maintain, unless 
It feel the weight of thine imposed press. 



62 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XV. 

So let it be, 

Lord, I am well content, 
And thou shalt see 

The time is not mispent, 
Which thou dost then bestow, when thou dost quell 
And crush the heart where pride before did swell. 

Lord, I perceive, 

As soon as thou dost send, 
And I receive 
The blessings thou dost lend, 
Mine heart begins to mount, and doth forget 
The ground whereon it goes, where it is set. 

In health I grew 

Wanton, began to kick, 
As though I knew 

I never should be sick. 
Diseases take me down, and make me know, 
Bodies of brass must pay the debt they owe. „ 

If I but dream 

Of wealth, mine heart doth rise 
With a full stream 

Of pride, and I despise 
All that is good, until I wake, and spy 
The swelling bubble prick'd with poverty. 



THE HEART. 63 

A little wind 

Of undeserved praise 
Blows up my mind, 

And my swoln thoughts do raise 
Above themselves, until the sense of shame 
Makes me contemn my self-dishonour'd name. 



One moment's mirth 

Would make me run stark mad, 
And the whole earth, 
Could it at once be had, 
Would not suffice my greedy appetite, 
Didst thou not pain instead of pleasure write. 



Lord, it is well 

I was in time brought down, 
Else thou canst tell, 

Mine heart would soon have flown 
Full in thy face, and study to requite 
The riches of thy goodness with despite. 

Slack not thine hand, 

Lord, turn thy screw about : 
If thy press stand, 

Mine heart may chance slip out. 
O quest it unto nothing, rather than 
It should forget itself, and swell again. 



64 THE SCHOOL OF 

Or if thou art 

Disposed to let it go, 
Lord, teach mine heart 
To lay itself as low 
As thou canst it : that prosperity 
May still be temper'd with humility. 

Thy way to rise, 

Was to descend ; let me 
Myself despise, 
And so ascend with thee, 
Thou throw'st them down that lift themselves on 

high, 
And raisest them that on the ground do lie. 



THE HEART. 



65 




THE SOFTENING OF THE HEART, 

This icy, marble heart, like wax will melt, 
Soon as the fire of heavenly love is felt. 

JOB XXIII. 16. 

God maketh my heart soft. 
Epig. 16, 

JVIine heart is like a marble ice, 
Both cold and hard: but thou canst in a trice 
Melt it like wax, great God, if from above 
Thou kindle in it once thy fire of love. 

F 



66 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XVI. 



Nay, blessed Founder, leave me not: 

If out of all this grot 
There can but any gold be got, 
The time thou dost bestow, the cost 

And pains will not be lost : 
The bargain is but hard at most. 
And such are all those thou dost make with me; 
Thou know'st thou canst not but a loser be. 

When the sun shines with glittering beams, 

His cold-dispelling gleams 
Turn snow and ice to wat'ry streams. 
The wax, so soon as it hath smelt 
The warmth or fire, and felt 
The glowing heat thereof, will melt. 
Yea, pearls with vinegar dissolve we may, 
And adamants in blood of goats, they say. 



If nature can do this, much more, 
Lord, may thy grace restore 
Mine heart to what it was before. 
There's the same matter in it still, 
Though new-inform'd with ill, 
Yet can it not resist thy will. 
Thy pow'r, that fram'd it at the first, as oft 
As thou wilt have it, Lord, can make it soft. 



THE HEART. 67 

Thou art the Sun of righteousness: 

And though I must confess 
Mine heart's grown hard in wickedness, 
Yet thy resplendent rays of light, 

When once they come in sight, 
Will quickly thaw what froze by night. 
Lord, in thine healing wings a pow'r doth dwell, 
Able to melt the hardest heart in hell. 

Although mine heart in hardness pass 

Both iron, steel, and brass, 
Yea, the hardest thing that ever was ; 
Yet if thy fire thy Spirit accord, 

And, working with thy word, 
A blessing unto it afford, 
It will grow liquid, and not drop alone, 
But melt itself away before thy throne. 

Yea, though my flinty heart be such, 

That the sun cannot touch, 
Nor fire sometimes affect it much, 
Yet thy warm reeking self-shed blood, 

O Lamb of God, is so good, 
It cannot be withstood. 
That aqua-regia of thy love prevails. 
E'en where the pow'r of aqua-fortis fails. 

Then leave me not so soon, dear Lord, 
Though I neglect thy word, 



68 THE SCHOOL OF 

And what thy power doth afford ; 

O try thy mercy, and thy love 
The force thereof may prove. 
Soak'd in thy blood, mine heart will soon surrender 
Its native hardness, and grow soft and tender. 



THE HEART. 




THE CLEANSING OF THE HEART. 

A fountain flows from Jesu's wounded side, 
Here iet thy filthy heart be purified. 

JER. V. 14. 

O Jerusalem, wash thy heart from wickedness, that 
thou may est be saved. 

Epig. 17. 

Out of thy wounded Husband's, Saviour's side, 
Espoused soul, there flows with a full tide 
A fountain for uncleanness : wash thee there, 
Wash there thine heart, and then thou need's t not 
fear. 



70 THE SCHOOL OF. 

ODE XVII. 

endless misery! 
t labour still, but still in vain. 

The stains of sin I see 
Are oaded all, or dy'd in grain. 

There's not a blot 

Will stir a jot, 
For all that I can do. 

There is no hope 

In fullers' soap, 
Though I add nitre too. 

1 many ways have tried, 
Have often soak'd it in cold fears; 

And, when a time I spied, 
Pour'd upon it scalding tears : 

Have rins'd and rubb'd, 
And scrap'd and scrubb'd, 

And turn'd it up and down: 
Yet can I not 
Wash out one spot; 

It's rather fouler grown. 

O miserable state! 
Who would be troubled with an heart, 

As I have been of late, 
Both to my sorrow, shame, and smart? 
If it will not 
Be clearer got, 



THE HEART. 71 

'Twere better I had none. 

Yet how should we 

Divided be, 
That are not two, but one? 

But am I not stark wild, 
That go about to wash mine heart 

With hands that are denTd 
As much as any other part? 

Whilst all thy tears, 

Thine hopes and fears, 
Both ev'ry word, and deed, 

And thought is foul, 

Poor silly soul! 
How canst thou look to speed? 

Can there no help be had? 
Lord, thou art holy, thou art pure : 

Mine heart is not so bad, 
So foul, but thou canst cleanse it, sure. 

Speak, blessed Lord, 

Wilt thou afford 
Me means to make it clean ? 

1 know thou wilt : 

Thy blood was spilt. 
Should it run still in vain? 

Then to that blessed spring, 
Which from my Saviour's sacred side 

Doth flow, mine heart HI bring; 
And there it will be purified. 



72 THE SCHOOL OF 

Although the dye, 

Wherein I lie, 
Crimson or scarlet were ; 

This blood, I know, 

Will mak't as snow 
Or wool, both clean and clear. 



THE HEART. 




THE MIRROR OF THE HEART. 
Wouldst thou inspect the heart? Lord look at mine, 
And let the sight imprint new wounds on thine. 

THE GIVING OF THE HEART. 

PROV. XXIII. 26. 

My son, give me thine jieart, 

Epig. 18. 

1 he only love, the only fear thou art, 
Dear and dread Saviour, of my sin-sick heart. 
Thine heart thou gavest, that it might be mine: 
Take thou mine heart, then, that it may be thine, 



/ 



74 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XVIII. 

Give thee mine heart? Lord, so I would, 
And there's great reason that I should, 

If it were worth the having : 
Yet sure thou wilt esteem that good, 
Which thou hast purchas'd with thy blood, 

And thought it worth the craving. 

Give thee mine heart? Lord, so I will, 
If thou wilt first impart the skill 

Of bringing it to thee : 
But should I trust myself to give 
Mine heart, as sure as I do live, 

I should deceived be. 

As all the value of mine heart 
Proceeds from favour, not desert, 

Acceptance is its worth : 
So neither know I how to bring 
A present to my heav'nly King, 

Unless he set it forth. 

Lord of my life, methinks I hear 
Thee say, that thee alone to fear, 

And thee alone to love, 
Is to bestow mine heart on thee, 
That other giving none can be, 

Whereof thou wilt approve. 



THE HEART. 75 

And well thou dost deserve to be 
Both loved, Lord, and fear'd by me, 

So good, so great thou art : 
Greatness so good, goodness so great, 
As passeth all finite conceit, 

And ravisheth mine heart. 

Should I not love thee, blessed Lord, 
Who freely of thine own accord 

Laid'st down thy life for me? 
For me, that was not dead alone, 
But desp'rately transcendent grown 

In enmity to thee? 

Should I not fear before thee, Lord, 
Whose hand spans heaven, at whose word 

Devils themselves do quake? 
Whose eyes outshine the sun, whose beck 
Can the whole course of nature check, 

And its foundations shake? 

Should I withhold mine heart from thee, 
The fountain of felicity, 

Before whose presence is 
Fulness of joy, at whose right hand 
All pleasures in perfection stand, 

And everlasting bliss? 

i 
Lord, had I hearts a million, 
And myriads in ev'ry one 



76 THE SCHOOL OF 

Of choicest loves and fears; 
They were too little to bestow 
On thee, to whom I all things owe, 

I should be in arrears. 

Yet, since my heart's the most I have, 
And that which thou dost chiefly crave, 

Thou shalt not of it miss. 
Although I cannot give it so 
As I should do, I'll offer' t though : 

Lord, take it, here it is. 



THE HEART. 




THE SACRIFICE OF THE HEART. 

God is not pleas'd with calves or bullocks slain: 
The heart he gave, is all he asks again. 

PSALM LI. 17. 

The sacrifices of God are a broken heart, 
Epig. 19. 
Nor calves, nor bulls, are sacrifices good 
Enough for thee, who gav'st for me thy blood, 
And, more than that, thy life : take thine own part, 
Great God, that gavest all : here, take mine heart. 



73 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XIX. 

Thy former covenant of old, 
Thy law of ordinances, did require 

Fat sacrifices from the fold, 
And many other off 'rings made by fire* 

Whilst thy first tabernacle stood, 

All things were consecrate with blood. 

And can thy better covenant, 
The law of grace and truth by Jesus Christ, 

Its proper sacrifices want 
For such an altar, and for such a priest? 

No, no, thy gospel doth require 

Choice off'rings too, and made by fire. 

A sacrifice for sin indeed, 
Lord, thou didst make thyself and once for all : 

So that there never will be need 
Of any more sin-off 'rings, great or small. 

The life-blood thou didst shed for me 

Hath set my soul for ever free. 

Yea, the same sacrifice thou dost 
Still offer in behalf of thine elect: 

x4nd, to improve it to the most, 
Thy word and sacraments do in effect 

Offer thee oft, and sacrifice 

Thee daily, in our ears and eyes. 



THE HEART. 79 

Yea, each believing soul may take 
Thy sacrificed flesh and blood, by faith, 

And therewith an atonement make 
For all its trespasses : thy gospel saith, 

Such infinite transcendent price 

Is there in thy sweet sacrifice! 



But is this all? Must there not be 
Peace-offerings, and sacrifices of 

Thanksgiving, tender'd unto thee? 
Yes, Lord, I know I should but mock, and scoff 

Thy sacrifice for sin, should I 

My sacrifice of praise deny. 



But I have nothing of mine own 
Worthy to be presented in thy sight ; 

Yea, the whole world affords not one 
Or ram, or lamb, wherein thou canst delight. 

Less than myself it must not be : 

For thou didst give thyself for me. 



Myself, then, I must sacrifice : 
And so I will, mine heart, the only thing 

Thou dost above all other prize 
As thine own part, the best I have to bring. 

An humble heart's a sacrifice, 

VFhich I know thou wilt not despise. 



80 THE SCHOOL Of 

Lord, be my altar, sanctify 
Mine heart thy sacrifice, and let thy Spirit 

Kindle thy fire of love, that I, 
Burning with zeal to magnify thy merit/ 

May both consume my sins, and raise 

Eternal trophies to thy praise. 



THE HEART. 



3i 




THE WEIGHING OF THE HEART. 

This gift of thine will not appear so great. 
Unless when tried it proves of proper weight. 

PROY. XXI. 2. 

The Lord pondereth the heart, 

Epig. 20. 

I he heart thou giv'st as a great gift, my love, 
Brought to the trial, nothing such will prove; 
If Justice' equal balance tell thy sight, 
That, weighed with my law, it is too light. 



S- THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XX. 

'Tis true, indeed, an heart, 
Such as it ought to be, 
Entire and sound in ev'ry part, 
Is always welcome unto me. 
He that would please me with an offering, 
Cannot a better have, although he were a king. 

And there is none so poor, 
But, if he will, he may 
Bring me an heart, although no more, 
And on mine altar may it lay. 
The sacrifice which I like best, is such 
As rich men cannot boast, and poor men need not 
grutch. 

Yet ev'ry heart is not 
A gift sufficient, 
It must be purg'd from ev'ry spot, 
And all to pieces must be rent. 
Though thou hast sought to circumcise and bruise't, 
It must be weighed too, or else I shall refuse't. 

My balances are just, 
My law's an equal weight; 
The beam is strong, and thou may'st trust 
My steady hand to hold it straight. 
Were thine heart equal to the world in sight, 
Yet it were nothing worth, if it should prove too 
light. 



THE HEART. 83 

And so thou seest it doth ; 
My pond'rous law doth press 
This scale ; but that, as fill'd with froth, 
Tilts up, and makes no show of stress. 
Thine heart is empty sure, or else it would 
In weight, as well as bulk, better proportion hold. 

Search it, and thou shalt find 
It wants integrity; 
And yet is not so thorough lin'd 
With single-ey'd sincerity, 
As it should be : some more humility 
There wants to make it weight, and some more 
constancy. 

Whilst windy vanity 
Doth puff it up with pride, 
And double-fac'd hypocrisy 
Doth many empty hollows hide, 
It is but good in part, and that but little, 
Wav'ring unstaidness makes its resolutions brittle. 



The heart, that in my sight 
As current coin would pass, 
Must not be the least grain too light, 
But as at first it stamped was. 
Keep then thine heart till it be better grown, 
And, when it is full, I'll take it for mine own. 



84 THE SCHOOL OF 

But if thou art asham'd 
To find thine heart so light, 
And art afraid thou shalt be blam'd, 
I'Jl teach thee how to set it right. 
Add to my law my gospel, and there see 
My merits thine, and then the scales will equal be. 



THE HEART. 



8i> 




THE DEFENCE OF THE HEART. 
O thon my light and life ! thy aid impart, 
And let thy sufferings now defend my heart. 

THE TRYING OF THE HEART. 

PROV. XVII. 3. 

The fining-pot for silver, and the furnace for gold: 
but the Lord trieth the hearts. 

Epig. 21. 

1 HiNEheart, my dear, more precious is than gold, 
Or the most precious things that can be told, 
Provide first that my pure fire have tried 
Out all the dross, and pass it purified. 



86 THE SCHOOt OF 



ODE XXI. 

What ! take it at adventure, and not try 
What metal it is made of? No, not I. 

Should I now lightly let it pass, 
Take sullen lead for silver, sounding brass, 

Instead of solid gold, alas ! 
What would become of it in the great day 
Of making jewels, 'twould be cast away. 



The heart thou giv'st me must be such a one, 
As is the same throughout. I will have none 

But that which will abide the fire. 
'Tis not a glitt'ring outside I desire, 

Whose seeming shows do soon expire : 
But real worth within, which neither dross, 
Nor base alleys, make subject unto loss. 

If, in the composition of thine heart, 
A stubborn steely wilfulness have part, 

That will not bow and bend to me, 
Save only in a mere formality 

Of tinsel-trimm'd hypocrisy, 
I care not for it, though it show as fair 
As the first blush of the sun-gilded air. 

The heart that in my furnace will not melt, 
When it the glowing heat thereof hath felt, 



THE HEART. 87 

Turn liquid, and dissolve in tears 
Of true repentance for its faults, that hears 

My threatening voice, and never fears, 
Is not an heart worth having. If it be 
An heart of stone, 'tis not an heart for me. 

The heart, that, cast into my furnace, spits 
And sparkles in my face, fall into fits 

Of discontented grudging, whines 
When it is broken of its will, repines 

At the least suffering, declines 
My fatherly correction, is an heart 
On which I care not to bestow mine art* 

The heart that in my flames asunder flies. 
Scatters itself at random, and so lies 

In heaps of ashes here and there, 
Whose dry dispersed parts will not draw near 

To one another, and adhere 
In a firm union, hath no metal in't 
Fit to be stamped and coined in my mint. 

The heart that vapours out itself in smoke, 
And with these cloudy shadows thinks to cloke 

Its empty nakedness, how much 
Soever thou esteemest it, is such 

As never will endure my touch. 
Before I tak't for mine, then I will try 
What kind of metal in thine heart doth lie. 



88 THE SCHOOL OF 

I'll bring it to my furnace, and there see 
What it will prove, what it is like to be. 

If it be gold, it will be sure 
The hottest fire that can be to endure, 

And I shall draw T it out more pure. 
Affliction may refine, but cannot waste 
That heart wherein my love is fixed fast. 



THE HEART. 



89 




THE SEARCHING OF THE HEART. 
That which no line can fathom, I alone 
Can search : To me the human heart is known. 

THE SOUNDING OF THE HEART. 

JER. XVII. 9, 10. 

The heart is deceitful above all things, and despe- 
rately wicked; who can know it? I the Lord. 

Epig. 22. 

1, that alone am infinite, can try 
How deep within itself thine heart doth lie. 
Thy seamen's plummet can but reach the ground : 
I find that which thine heart itself ne'er found. 



90 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXII. 

A goodly heart to see to, fair and fat! 

It may be so : and what of that? 
Is it not hollow? Hath it not within 

A bottomless whirlpool of sin? 
Are there not secret creeks and crannies there, 

Turning and winding corners, where 
The heart itself e'en from itself may hide, 

And lurk in secret unespied? 
I'll none of it, if such a one it prove: 
Truth in the inward parts is that I love. 

But who can tell what is within thine heart? 

'Tis not a work of nature ; art 
Cannot perform that task : 'tis I alone, 

Not man, to whom man's heart is known. 
Sound it thou mays't, and must: but then the line 

And plummet must be mine, not thine; 
And I must guide it too ; thine hand and eye 

May quickly be deceiv'd : but I, 
That made thine heart at first, am better skili'd 
To know when it is empty, when 'tis fill'd. 

Lest then thou shouldst deceive thyself, for Me 
Thou canst not ; I will let thee see 

Some of those depths of Satan, depths of hell, 
Wherewith thine hollow heart doth swell. 

Under pretence of knowledge in thy mind, 
Error and ignorance I find ; 



THE HEART. 91 

Quicksands of rotten superstition, 

Spread over with misprision. 
Some things thou knowest not, mis-knowest others, 
And oft thy conscience its own knowledge smo- 
thers. 



Thy crooked will, that seemingly inclines 

To follow reason's dictates, twines 
Another way in secret, leaves its guide, 

And lags behind, or swerves aside ; 
Crab-like, creeps backwards; when it should have 
made 

Progress in good, is retrograde. 
Whilst it pretends a privilege above 

Reason's prerogative, to move 
As of itself unmov'd, rude passions learn 
To leave the oar, and take in hand the stern. 

The tides of thine affections ebb and flow, 

Rise up aloft, fall down below, 
Like to the sudden land-floods, that advance 

Their swelling waters but by chance. 
Thy love, desire, thy hope, delight, and fear, 

Ramble they care not when, nor where, 
et cunningly bear thee in hand, they be 

Only directed unto me, 
Or most to me, and would no notice take 
Of other things, but only for my sake. 



XI 



92 THE SCHOOL OF 

Such strange prodigious impostures lurk 

In thy prestigious heart, 'tis work 
Enough for thee all thy lifetime to learn 

How thou may'st truly it discern : 
That, when upon mine altar thou dost lay 

Thine off'ring, thou may'st safely say, 
And swear it is an heart : for, if it should 

Prove only an heart-case, it would 
Nor pleasing be to me, nor do thee good. 
An heart's no heart, not rightly understood. 



THE HEART. 




THE LEVELLING OF THE HEART. 

The heart's true level if you still design, 
Then often bring it to be try'd by mine. 

PSALM XCVII. 11. 

Gladness for the upright in heart. 
Epig. 23. 

!^et thine heart upright, if thou wouldst rejoice, 
And please thyself in thine heart's pleasing choice : 
But then be sure thy plumb and level be 
Rightly applied to that which pleaseth me. 



94 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXIII. 

Nay, yet I have not done : one trial more 
Thine heart must undergo, before 
I will accept of it : 
Unless I see 
It upright be, 
I cannot think it fit 
To be admitted in my sight, 
And to partake of mine eternal light* 



My will's the rule of righteousness, as free 
From error as uncertainty : 
What I would have is just. 
Thou must desire 
What I require, 
And take it upon trust : 
If thou prefer thy will to mine, 
The level's lost, and thou go'st out of line. 



Canst thou not see how thine heart turns aside, 
And leans towards thyself? How wide 
A distance there is here? 
Until I see 
Both sides agree 
Alike with mine, 'tis clear 
The middle is not where't should be; 
Likes something better, though it look at me. 



THE HEART. 95 

I, that know best how to dispose of thee, 
Would have thy portion poverty, 

Lest wealth should make thee proud, 
And ine forget : 
But thou hast set 
Thy voice to cry aloud 
For riches ; and unless I grant 
All that thou wishest, thou complain'st of want. 

I, to preserve thine health, would have thee fast 
From nature's dainties, lest at last 
Thy senses' sweet delight 
Should end in smart: 
But thy vain heart 
Will have its appetite 
Pleased to-day, though grief and sorrow 
Threaten to cancel all thy joys to-morrow. 

I, to prevent thy hurt by climbing high, 
Would have thee be content to lie 
Quiet and safe below, 

Where peace doth dwell ; 
But thou dost swell 
With vast desires, as though 
A little blast of vulgar breath 
Were better than deliverance from death. 

I, to procure thy happiness, would have 
Thee mercy at mine hands to crave : 



96 THE SCHOOL OF 

But thou dost merit plead, 
And wilt have none 
But of thine own, 

Till justice strike thee dead, 
And all thy crooked paths go cross to mine. 



THE HEART. 



97 




THE RENEWING OF THE HEART. 

Since so much pleasure novelties impart, 
Resign thine old, for this new better heart. 

EZEK. XXXVI. 26. 

A new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will 
I put within you. 

Epig. 24. 

Art thou delighted with strange novelties, 
Which often prove bat old fresh-garnish'd lies? 
Leave then thine old, take the new heart I give thee : 
Condemn thyself, that so I may reprieve thee. 

H 



93 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXIV. 

No, no, I see 
There is no remedy : 
An heart, that wants both weight and worth, 
That's fill'd with nought but empty hollowness, 
And serew'd aside with stubborn wilfulness, 
Is only fit to be cast forth, 
Nor to be given me, 
Nor kept by thee. 



Then let it go; 
And if thou wilt bestow 
An acceptable heart on me, 
I'll furnish thee with one shall serve the turn 
Both to be kept and given : which will burn 
With zeal, yet not consumed be : 
Nor with a scornful eye 
Blast standers by. 



The heart, that I 
Will give thee, though it lie 
Buried in seas of sorrows, yet 
Will not be drown'd with doubt, or discontent; 
Though sad complaints sometimes may give a vent 
To grief, and tears the cheeks may wet, 
Yet it exceeds their art 
To hurt his heart. 



THE HEART. 99 

The heart I give, 
Though it desire to live, 
And bathe itself in all content, ~ 
Yet will not toil, or taint itself with any : 
Although it take a view and taste of many, 
It feeds on few, as though it meant 
To breakfast only here, 
And dine elsewhere. 



This heart is fresh 
And new : an heart of flesh, 
Not, as thine old one was, of stone. 
A lively spiritly heart, and moving still, 
Active to what is good, but slow to ill: 
An heart, that with a sigh and groan 
Can blast all worldly joys, 
As trifling toys. 



This heart is sound, 
And solid will be found; 
'Tis not an empty airy flash, 
That baits at butterflies, and with full cry 
Opens at ev'ry flirting vanity. 

It slights and scorns such paltry trash : 
But for eternity 

Dares live or die. 



100 THE SCHOOL OP 

I know thy mind : 
Thou seek'st content to find 
In such things as are new and strange. 
Wander no further then : lay by thine old, 
Take the new heart I give thee, and be bold 
To boast thyself of the exchange, 
And say, that a new heart 
Exceeds all art. 



THE HEART. 



101 




THE ENLIGHTENING OF THE HEART. 

Thou Light of lights, O by thy presence bright 
Chase my heart's darkness, and impart thy light. 

PSALM XXXIV. 5. 

They looked on him, and were lightened, 

Epig. c 25. 

1 hou art Light of lights, the only sight 
Of the blind world, lend me thy saving light : 
Disperse those mists which in my soul have made 
Darkness as deep as hell's eternal shade. 



102 THE SCHOOL OF 



* ODE XXV. 

Alas ! that I 
Could not before espy 
The soul-confounding misery 
Of this more than Egyptian dreadful night! 

To be deprived of the light, 
And to have eyes, but eyes devoid of sight, 
As mine have been, is such a woe, 
As he alone can know 
That feels it so. 



Darkness has been 
My God and me between, 
Like an opacous doubled screen, 
Through which nor light nor heat could passage 
find. 
Gross ignorance hath made my mind 
And understanding not blear-ey'd, but blind; 
My will to all that's good is cold, 
Nor can, though I would, 
Do what I should. 



THE HEART. 103 

No, now I see 
There is no remedy 
Left in myself: it cannot be 
That blind men in the dark should find the way 

To blessedness : although they may 
Imagine the high midnight is noon-day, 
As I have done till now, they'll know 
At last, unto their woe, 
'Twas nothing so. 

Now I perceive 

Presumption doth bereave 

Men of all hope of help, and leave 

Them, as it finds them, drown'd in misery: 

Despairing of themselves, to cry 
For mercy is the only remedy 

That sin-sick souls can have; to pray 
Against this darkness, may 
Turn it to day. 

Then unto thee, 
Great Lord of light, let me 
Direct my prayer, that I may see. 
Thou, that didst make mine eyes, canst soon re- 
store 
That pow'r of sight they had before, 
And, if thou seest it good, canst give them more. 
The night will quickly shine like day, 
If thou do but display 
One glorious ray. 



104 THE SCHOOL OF 

I must confess, 
And I can do no less, 
Thou art the Sun of righteousness: 
There's healing in thy wings; thy light is life; 

My darkness death. To end all strife, 
Be thou mine husband, let me be thy wife : 
So light and life divine 
Will all be thine. 



THE HEART. 



105 




THE LAW-TABLE OF THE HEART. 

Leave the stone tables for thy Saviour's part ; 
Keep thou the law that's written in thy heart. 

JER. XXXI. 33. 

I will put my law in their inward parts, and write 
it in their hearts. 

Epig. 26. 

In the soft table of thine heart I'll write 
A new law, which I will newly indite. 
Hard stony tables did contain the old : 
But tender leaves of flesh shall this infold. 



106 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXVI. 
What will thy sight 
Avail thee, or my light, 
If there be nothing in thine heart to see 
Acceptable to me? 
A self-writ heart will not 
Please me, or do thee any good ; I wot 
The paper must be thine, 
The writing mine. 



What I indite 
'Tis I alone can write, 
And write in books that I myself have made. 
'Tis not an easy trade 
To read or write in hearts : 
They that are skilful in all other arts, 
When they take this in hand, 
Are at a stand. 



My law of old 
Tables of stone did hold, 
Wherein I wrote what I before had spoken, 
Yet were they quickly broken : 
A sign the covenant 
Contain'd, in them would due observance want. 
Nor did they long remain 
Copied again. 



THE HEART. 107 

But now I'll try 
What force in flesh doth lie : 
Whether thine heart renew'd afford a place 
Fit for my law of grace. 
This covenant is better 
Than that, though glorious, of the killing letter. 
This gives life, not by merit, 
But by my Spirit. 



When in men's hearts, 
And their most inward parts, 
I by my Spirit write my law of love, 
They then begin to move, 
Not by themselves, but me, 
And their obedience is their liberty. 

There are no slaves, but those 
That serve their foes. 



When I have writ 
My covenant in it, 
View thine heart by my light, and thou shalt see 
A present fit for me. 
The worth, for which I look, 
Lies in the lines, not in the leaves of the' book. 
Coarse paper may be lin'd 
With words refin'd : 



108 - THE SCHOOL OF 

And such are mine. 
No furnace can refine 
The choicest silver so, to make it pure, 
As my law put in ure 
Purgeth the hearts of men : 
Which being ruPd, and written with my pen, 
My Spirit, ev'ry letter 

Will make them better. 



THE HEART. 



109 




THE TILLING OF THE HEART. 

Lord, with thy plough break up this heart of mine, 
And fit it to receive the seed divine. 

EZEK. XXXVI. 9. 

I will turn unto you, and ye shall be tilled and 



Efig. 27. 

Mine heart's a field, thy cross aplough: bepleas'd, 
Dear Spouse, to till it, till the mould be rais'd 
Fit for the seeding of thy word : then sow, 
jAnd if thou shine upon it, it will grow. 



110 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXVII. 

So now methinks I find 
Some better vigour in my mind; 
My will begins to move, 
And mine affections stir towards things above: 
Mine heart grows big with hope; it is a field 
That some good fruit may yield, 
If it were tilPd as it should be, 
Not by myself, but thee. 

Great Husbandman, whose pow'r 
All difficulties can devour, 
And do what likes thee best, 
Let not thy held, my heart, lie by and rest; 
Lest it be over-run w r ith noisome weeds, 

That spring of their own seeds : 
Unless thy grace the growth should stop. 
Sin would be all my crop. 

Break up my fallow ground, 
That there may not a clod be found 
To hide one root of sin. 
Apply thy plough betime : now, now begin 
To furrow up my stiff and starvy heart; 
No matter for the smart : 
Although it roar, when it is rent, 
Let not thine hand relent. 



THE HEART. Ill 

Corruption's rooted deep ; 
Showers of repentant tears must steep 
The mould, to make it soft: 
It must be stirr'd, and turn'd, not once, but oft. 
Let it have all its seasons. O impart 
The best of all thine art : 
For of itself it is so tough, 
All will be but enough. 



Or, if it be thy will 
To teach me, let me learn the skill 
Myself to plough mine heart : 
The profit will be mine, and 'tis my part 
To take the pains, and labour, though the' increase 
Without thy blessing cease : 
If fit for nothing else, yet thou 
May'st make me draw thy plough : 



Which of thy ploughs thou wilt, 
For thou hast more than one, My guilt, 
Thy wrath, thy rods, are all 
Ploughs fit to tear mine heart to pieces small : 
And when, in these, it apprehends thee near, 
'Tis furrowed with fear: 
Each weed turn'd under, hides its head, 
And shows as it were dead. 



112 THE SCHOOL OF 

But, Lord, thy blessed passion 
Is a plough of another fashion, 
Better than all the rest. 
Oh fasten me to that, and let the rest 
Of all my powers strive to draw it in, 
And leave no room for sin. 
The virtue of thy death can make 
Sin its fast hold forsake. 



VUZ HEART. 



H3 




THE SEEDING OF THE HEART. 

With thine own hand, O Lord, now seed the ground, 
Lest this vile heart be slili unfruitful found. 

LUKE VIII. 15. 

That on the good ground are they, which, with an 
honest and good heart, having heard the ivord, 
keep it, and bring forth fruit with patience. 

Epig. 28. 

JLest the field of mine heart should unto thee, 
Great Husbandman that niad'st it, barren be, 
Manure the ground, then come thyself and seed it ; 
And let thy servants water it and weed it. 
i 



114 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XXVIII. 



Nay, blessed Lord, 
Unless thou wilt afford 
Manure, as well as tillage, to thy field, 

It will not yield 
That fruit which thou expectedst it should bear; 

The ground, I fear, 

Will still remain 
Barren of what is good : and all the grain 

It will bring forth, 

As of its own accord, will not be worth 

The pains of gathering 

So poor a thing. 

Some faint desire, 
That quickly will expire, 
Wither, and die, is all thou canst expect. 

If thou neglect 
To sow it now 'tis ready, thou shalt find 

That it will bind 

And harder grow 
Than at the first it was. Thou must bestow 

Some further cost, 
Else all thy former labour will be lost. 
Mine heart no corn will breed 

Without thy seed. 



THE HEART. 115 

Thy word is seed, 
And manure too : will feed, 
As well as fill mine heart. If once it were 

Well rooted there, ' 
It would come on apace : O then neglect 

No time: expect 

No better season. 
Now, now thy field, mine heart, is ready : reason 

Surrenders now; 
Now my rebellious will begins to bow, 
And mine affections are 

Tamer by far. 

m 

Lord, I have lain 
Barren too long, and fain 
I would redeem the time, that I may be 

Fruitful to thee; 
Fruitful in knowledge, faith, obedience, 
Ere I go hence : 
That when I come 
At harvest to be reaped, and brought home, 

Thine angels may 
My soul in thy celestial garner lay, 
Where perfect joy and bliss 
Eternal is. 

If to entreat 
A crop of purest wheat, 
A blessing too transcendent should appear 
For me to hear, 



116 THE SCHOOL OF 

Lord, make me what thou wilt, so thou wilt take 

What thou dost make, 

And not disdain 
To house me, though among thy coarsest grain ; 

So I may be 
Laid with the gleanings gathered by thee, 
When the full sheaves are spent, 

I am content. 



THE HEART. 



117 




THE WATERING OF THE HEART. 

My heart toward Heav'n is open ; let thy showers 
Gently distil, and aid the springing flowers. 

ISAIAH XXVII. 3. 

I the Lord do keep it: I will water it every 
moment. 

Epig. 29. 

v^lose downwards towards the earth, open above 
Towards Heav'n, mine heart is. O let thy love 
Distil in fructifying dews of grace, 
And then mine heart will be a pleasant place. 



US THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XXIX. 

See how this dry and thirsty land, 
Mine heart, doth gaping, gasping stand, 

And, close below, opens towards Heav'n and 
thee ; 
Thou Fountain of felicity, 

Great Lord of living waters, water me : 

Let not my breath, that pants with pain, 
Waste and consume itself in vain. 



The mists, that from the earth do rise, 
An heav'n-born heart will not suffice : 

Cool it without they may, but cannot quench 
The scalding heat within, nor drench 

Its dusty dry desires, or fill one trench. 

Nothing, but what comes from on high, 
Can heav'n-bred longings satisfy. 



See how the seed, which thou didst sow, 
Lies parch'd and wither'd; will not grow 
Without some moisture, and mine heart hath 
none 

That it can truly call its own, 
By nature of itself, more than a stone : 

Unless thou water't, it will lie 

Drowned in dust, and still be dry. 



The heart. 119 

Thy tender plants can never thrive, 
Whilst want of water doth deprive 
Their roots of nourishment : which makes them 
call 
And cry to thee, great All in All, 
That seasonable show'rs of grace may fall, 
And water them : thy word will do't, 
If thou vouchsafe thy blessing to't. 

O then be pleased to unseal 

Thy fountain, blessed Saviour; deal 

Some drops at least, wherewith my drooping 
spirits 
May be revived. Lord, thy merits 

Yield more refreshing than the world inherits ; 
Rivers, yea seas, but ditches are, 
If with thy springs we them compare. 

If not full show'rs of rain, yet, Lord, 

A little pearly dew afford, 
Begot by thy celestial influence 

On some chaste vapour, raised hence 
To be partaker of thine excellence : 

A little, if it come from thee, 

Will be of great avail to me. 

Thou boundless Ocean of grace, 
Let thy free Spirit have a place 



120 THE SCHOOL OF 

Within mine heart: full rivers, then, I know, 
Of living waters, forth will flow; 

And all thy plants, thy fruits, thy flow'rs will 
grow. 
Whilst thy springs their roots do nourish, 
They must needs be fat, and flourish. 



THE HEART. 



121 




THE FLOWERS OF THE HEART. 

These lilies, rais'd from seed which thou didst sow, 
I give thee, with the soil in which they grow. 

CANT. VI. 2. 

My beloved is gonq down into his garden, to the beds 
of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather 
lilies, 

*EpiG. 30. 

I hese lilies I do consecrate to thee, 
Beloved Spouse, which spring, as thou may'st see, 
Out of the seed thou sowedst; and the ground 
Is better'd by thy flow'rs, when they abound. 



122 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XXX. 

Is there a joy like this? 

What can augment my bliss? 
If my Beloved will accept 
A posy of these flowers, kept 
And consecrated unto his content, 
I hope hereafter he will not repent 

The cost and pains he hath bestow 'd 
So freely upon me, that ow'd 

Him all I had before, 

And infinitely more. 

Nay, try them, blessed Lord; 
Take them not on my word, 
But let the colour, taste, and smell, 
The truth of their perfections tell. 
Thou that art infinite in wisdom, see 
If they be not the same that came from thee. 
If any difference be found, 
It is occasion'd by the ground, 
Which yet I cannot see 
So good as it should be. 
i 

What say'st thou to that Rose, 
That queen of flowers, whose 
Maiden blushes, fresh and fair, 
Outbrave the dainty morning air? 



THE HEART. l c 23 

Dost thou not in those lovely leaves espy 
The perfect picture of that modesty, 

That self-condemning shame-facedness, 
That is more ready to confess 
A fault, and to amend, 
Than it is to offend ? 



Is not this lily pure ? 

What fuller can procure 
A white so perfect, spotless, clear, 
As in this flower doth appear? 
Dost thou not in this milky colour see 
The lively lustre of sincerity, 

Which no hypocrisy hath painted, 
Nor self-respecting ends have tainted? 

Can there be to thy sight 

A more entire delight? 



Or wilt thou have, beside, 

Violets purple-dy'd ? 
The sun-observing marigold, 
Or orpin never waxing old, 
The primrose, cowslip, gillyflow'r, or pink, 
Or any flow'r, or herb, that I can think 
Thou hast a mind unto ? I shall 
Quickly be furnish'd with them all, 

If once I do but know 

That thou wilt have it so. 



124 THE SCHOOL OF 

Faith is a fruitful grace ; 
Well planted, stores the place, 
Fills all the borders, beds, and bow'rs, 
With wholesome herbs and pleasant 
flow'rs: 
Great Gardener, thou say'st, and I believe, 
What thou dost mean to gather, thou wilt give. 
Take then mine heart in hand, to fill't, 
And it shall yield thee what thou wilt. 
Yea thou, by gath'ring more, 
Shalt still increase my store. 



THE HEART. 



125 




THE KEEPING OF THE HEART. 

His heart is guarded well, whose hands appear 
Arm'd with a flaming sword by holy fear. 

prov. iv. 23. 
Keep thy heart with all diligence. 

Epig. 31. 

Like to a garden that is closed round, 
That heart is safely kept, which still is found 
Compass'd with care, and guarded with the fear 
Of God, as with a flaming sword and spear. 



\ '16 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXXI. 

The Soul. 
Lord, wilt thou suffer this? Shall vermin spoil 

The fruit of all thy toil, 
Thy trees, thine herbs, thy plants, thy flow'rs thus ; 

And, for an overplus 
Of spite and malice, overthrow thy mounds, 

Lay common all thy grounds? 
Canst thou endure thy pleasant garden should 
Be thus turn'd up as ordinary mould? 

Christ. 
What is the matter? why dost thou complain? 

Must I as well maintain, 
And keep, as make thy fences? wilt thou take 

No pains for thine own sake? 
Or doth thy self-confounding fancy fear thee, 

When there's no danger near thee? 
Speak out thy doubts, and thy desires, and tell me, 
What enemy or can or dares to quell thee ? 

The Soul. 
Many, and mighty, and malicious, Lord, 

That seek, with one accord, 
To work my speedy ruin, and make haste 

To lay thy garden waste. 
The devil is a ramping roaring lion, 

Hates at his heart thv Zion, 



THE HEART. 127 

And never gives it respite day nor hour, 
But still goes seeking whom he may devour. 

The world's a wilderness, wherein I find 

Wild beasts of every kind, 
Foxes, and wolves, and dogs ,and boars, and bears ; 

And, which augments my fears, 
Eagles and vultures, and such birds of prey, 

Will not be kept away: 
Besides the light-abhorring owls and bats, 
And secret corner-creeping mice and rats. 

But these, and many more, would not dismay 

Me much, unless there lay 
One worse than all within, myself I mean : 

My false, unjust, unclean, 
Faithless, disloyal self, that both entice 

And entertain each vice; 
This home-bred traitorous partaking's worse 
Than all the violence of foreign force. 

Lord, thou may'st see my fears are grounded, rise 

Not from a bare surmise, 
Or doubt of danger only ; my desires 

Are but what need requires, 
Of thy Divine protection and defence 

To keep these vermin hence : 
Which, if they should not be restrain'd by thee, 
Would grow too strong to be kept out by me. 



128 THE SCHOOL OF 

Christ. 
Thy fear is just, and I approve thy care. 

But yet thy comforts are 
Provided for, e'en in that care and fear : 

Whereby it doth appear 
Thou hast what thou desirest, my protection 

To keep thee from defection. 
The heart that cares and fears, is kept by me : 
I watch thee, whilst thy foes are watch' d by thee. 



THE HEART. 



129 




THE WATCHING OF THE HEART. 

My wakeful heart, that loves thy presence, keeps 
A constant watch, e'en while my body sleeps. 

CANT. V. 2. 

I sleep , but my heart waketh, 

jEp/g. 32. 

W hilst the soft bands of sleep tie up my senses, 
My watchful heart, free from all such pretences, 
Searches for thee, inquires of all about thee, 
Nor day, nor night, able to be without thee, 

K 



130 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XXXII. 



It must be so : that God that gave 
Me senses, and a mind, would have 

Me use them both, but in their several kinds ; 

Sleep must refresh my senses, but my mind's 
A sparkle of heav'nly fire, that feeds 
On action and employment, needs 

No time of rejst : for, when it thinks to please 

Itself with idleness, 'tis least at ease. 
Though quiet rest refresh the head, 
The heart, that stirs not, sure is dead. 

Whilst, then, my body ease doth take, 

My rest-refusing heart shall wake : 
And that mine heart the better watch may keep, 
I'll lay my senses for a time to sleep. 

Wanton desires shall not entice, 

Nor lust inveigle them to vice: 
No fading colours shall allure my sight, 
Nor sounds enchant mine ears with their delight : 

I'll bind my smell, my touch, my taste, 

To keep a strict religious fast. 

My worldly business shall lie still, 

That heav'nly thoughts my mind may fill : 

My Martha's cumb'ring cares shall cease their 
noise, 

That Mary may attend her better choice. 



THE HEART. 131 

That meditation may advance 

My heart on purpose, not by chance, 

My body shall keep holyday, that so 

My mind with better liberty may go 
About her business, and engross 
That gain which worldly men count loss. 

And though my senses sleep the while, 

My mind my senses shall beguile 
With dreams of thee, dear Lord, whose rare 

perfections 
Of excellence are such, that bare inspections 

Cannot suffice my greedy soul, 

Nor her fierce appetite control; 
But that the more she looks, the more she longs* 
And strives to thrust into the thickest throngs 

Of those divine discoveries 

Which dazzle even angels' eyes. 

Oh could I lay aside this flesh, 

And follow after thee with fresh 
And free desires ! my disentangled soul, 
Ravish'd with admiration, should roll 

Itself and all its thoughts on thee ; 

And, by believing, strive to see 
What is invisible to flesh and blood, 
And only by fruition understood : 

The beauty of each sev'ral grace, 

That shines in thy sun-shaming face. 



132 THE SCHOOL OF 

But what I can do that I will, 
Waking and sleeping, seek thee still : 
I'll leave no place unpry'd into behind me 
Where I can but imagine I may find thee : 
I'll ask of all I meet, if they 
Can tell me where thou art, which way 
Thou goest that I may follow after thee, 
Which way thou com'st, that thou may'st meet 
with me. 
If not thy face, Lord, let mine heart 
Behold with Moses thy back part. 



THE HEART. 



Iost 




THE WOUNDING OF THE HEART. 

With thousand shafts O pierce this heart of mine ; 
The wounds thou givest, Lord, are balm divine. 

LAM. III. 12. 

He hath bent his bow, and set me as a mark for the 



Epig. 33. 

A thousand of thy strongest shafts, my Light, 
Draw up against this heart with all thy might, 
And strike it through : they, that in need do stand 
Of cure, are healed by thy wounding hand. 



134 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XXXIII. 



Nay, spare me not, dear Lord, it cannot be 
They should be hurt, that wounded are by thee. 

Thy shafts will heal the hearts they hit, 

And to each sore its salve will fit. 
All hearts by nature are both sick and sore, 
And mine as much as any else, or more : 

There is no place that's free from sin, 

Neither without it, nor within; 
And universal maladies do crave 
Variety of medicines to have. 

First, let the arrow of thy piercing eye, 
Whose light outvieth the star-spangled sky, 

Strike through the darkness of my mind, 

And leave no cloudy mist behind. 
Let thy resplendent rays of knowledge dart 
Bright beams of understanding to mine heart; 

To my sin-shadow 'd heart, wherein 

Black ignorance did first begin 
To blur thy beauteous image, and deface 
The glory of thy self-sufficing grace. 

Next let the shaft of thy sharp-pointed pow'r, 
Discharged by that strength that can devour 

All difficulties, and incline 

Stout opposition to resign 



THE HEART. 135 

Its steelly stubbornness, subdue my will; 
Make it hereafter ready to fulfil 

Thy royal law of righteousness, 

As gladly as, I must confess, 
It hath fulfilled heretofore the' unjust, 
Profane, and cruel laws of its own lust. 



Then let that love of thine, which made thee leave 
The bosom of thy Father, and bereave 

Thyself of thy transcendent glory, 

(Matter for an eternal story!) 
Strike through mine affections all together; 
And let that sunshine clear the cloudy weather, 

Wherein they wander without guide, 

Or order, as the wind and tide 
Of floating vanities transport and toss them, 
Till self-begotten troubles curb and cross them* 



Lord empty all thy quivers, let there be 
No corner of my spacious heart left free, 
Till all be but one wound, wherein 
No subtle sight-abhorring sin 
May lurk in secret unespy'd by me, 
Or reign in pow'r unsubdu'd by thee. 
Perfect thy purchas'd victory, 
That thou may'st ride triumphantly, 
And, leading captive all captivity, 
May'st put an end to enmity in me. 



136 THE SCHOOL OF 

Then, blessed archer, in requital, I 
To shoot thine arrows back again will try; 
By pray'rs and praises, sighs and sobs, 
By vows and tears, by groans and throbs, 
I'll see if I can pierce and wound thine heart, 
And vanquish thee again by thine own art; 
Or, that we may at once provide 
For all mishaps that may betide, 
Shoot thou thyself thy polish'd shaft to me, 
And I will shoot my broken heart to thee. 



THE HEART. 



J 37 




THE INHABITING OF THE HEART. 

While here thy Spirit dwells, my heart shall hum 
With thine own love ; which sure thou wilt return. 

GAL. IV. 6. 

God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your 
hearts. 

Epig. 34. 

iVliNE heart's an house, my Light, and thou canst 
There's room enough; O let thy Spirit dwell [tell 
For ever there : that so thou may'st love me, 
And, being lov'd, I may again love thee. 



138 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXXIV. 

Welcome, great guest; this house, mine 
heart, 
Shall all be thine : 
I will resign 
Mine interest in ev'ry part : 
Only be pleased to use it as thine own 
For ever, and inhabitit alone : 
There's room enough; and, if the furniture 
Were answerably fitted, I am sure 

Thou wouldst be well content to stay, 
And, by thy light, 
Possess my sight 
With sense of an eternal day. 

It is thy building, Lord; 'twas made 
At thy command, 
And still doth stand 
Upheld and shelter'd by the shade 
Of thy protecting providence ; though such 
As is decayed and impaired much, 
Since the removal of thy residence, 
When, with thy grace, glory departed hence : 
It hath been all this while an inn 
To entertain 
The vile, and vain, 
And wicked companies of sin. 



THE HEART. 139 

Although'! be but an house of clay, 
Fram'd out of dust, 
And such as must 
Dissolved be, yet it was gay 
And glorious indeed, when ev'ry place 
Was furnished and fitted with thy grace: 
When, in the presence-chamber of my mind, 
The bright sun-beams of perfect knowledge shin'd : 
When my will was thy bedchamber, 
And ev'ry pow'r 
A stately tow'r 
Sweeten'd with thy Spirit's amber. 

But whilst thou dost thyself absent, 
It is not grown 
Noisome alone, 
But all to pieces torn and rent. 
The windows all are stopt, or broken so, 
That no light without wind can thorough go. 
The roof's uncovered, and the wall's decay'd, 
The door's flung off the hooks, the floor's unlay'd ; 
Yea the foundation rotten is, 
And every where 
It doth appear 
All that remains is far amiss. 

But if thou wilt return again, 

And dwell in me, 

Lord, thou shalt see 
What care I'll take to entertain 



140 THE SCHOOL OF 

Thee, though not like thyself, yet in such sort 
As thou wilt like, and I shall thank thee for't. 
Lord, let thy blessed Spirit keep possession, 
And all things will be well : at least, confession 
Shall tell thee what's amiss in me, 
And then thou shalt 
Or mend the fault, 
Or take the blame of all on thee. 



THE HEART. 



141 




THE ENLARGING OF THE HEART. 

That's pleasant now, which once I strove to shun, 
With heart enlarged the narrow way to run. 

PSALM CXIX. 32. 

J will run the way of thy commandments, when thou 
shalt enlarge my heart, 

Epig. 35, 

How pleasant is that now, which heretofore 
Mine heart held bitter, sacred learning's lore ! 
Enlarged heart enters with greatest ease 
The straightest paths, and runs the narrowest ways. 



142 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XXXV. 

What a blessed change I find. 

Since I entertain'd this guest! 
Now methinks another mind 

Moves and rules within my breast. 
Surely I am not the same 
That I was before he came ; 
But I then was much to blame. 



When, before, my God commanded 

Any thing he would have done, 
I was close and gripple-handed, 
Made an end ere I begun. 
If he thought it fit to lay 
Judgments on me, I could say, 
They are good; but shrink away. 



All the ways of righteousness 

I did think were full of trouble ; 
I complain'd of tediousness, 
And each duty seemed double. 

Whilst I serv'd him but of fear, 
Ev'ry minute did appear 
Longer far than a whole year. 



THE HEART. 113 

Strictness in religion seemed 

Like a pined, pinion'd thing : 
Bolts and fetters I esteemed 
More beseeming for a king, 

Than for me to bow my neck, 

And be at another's beck, 

When I felt my conscience check. 

But the case is alter'd now : 

He no sooner turns his eye, 
But I quickly bend, and bow, 
Ready at his feet to lie : 

Love hath taught me to obey 
All his precepts, and to say, 
Not to-morrow, but to-day. 

What he wills, I say I must : 
What I must, I say I will : 
He commanding, it is just 
What he would I should fulfil. 
Whilst he biddeth, I believe 
What he calls for he will give: 
To obey him, is to live. 

His commandments grievous are not, 
Longer than men think them so : 

Though he send me forth, I care not, 
Whilst he gives me strength to go ; 



144 THE SCHOOL OF 

When or whither, all is one; 
On his bus'ness, not mine own? 
I shall never go alone. 

If I be complete in him, 

And in him all fulness dwelleth, 
I am sure aloft to swim, 
Whilst that Ocean overswelleth. 
Having Him that's All in All, 
I am confident I shall 
Nothing want, for which I call. 



THE HEART. 



145 




THE INFLAMING OF THE HEART. 

Thus my fond heart, inflam'd with strong desire, 
Shall, like a salamander, live in fire. 

PSALM XXXIX. 3. 

My heart was hot within me: while I was musing, 
the fire burned. 

Epig. 36. 

opare not, my Love, to kindle and inflame 
Mine heart within throughout, until the same 
Break forth, and burn : that so thy salamander, 
Mine heart, may never from thy furnace wander. 

L 



H6 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXXVI. 

Welcome, holy, heav'nly fire, 
Kindled by immortal love: 
Which descending from above, 

Makes all earthly thoughts retire, 
And give place 
To that grace, 

Which, with gentle violence, 
Conquers all corrupt affections, 
Rebel nature's insurrections, 

Bidding them be packing hence. 



Lord, thy fire doth heat within, 
Warmeth not without alone; 
Though it be an heart of stone, 

Of itself congeal'd in sin, 
Hard as steel, 
If it feel 

Thy dissolving pow'r, it groweth 
Soft as wax, and quickly takes 
Any print thy Spirit makes, 

Faying what thou say'st it oweth. 

Of itself mine heart is dark; 
But thy fire, by shining bright, 
Fills it full of saving light. 

Though't be but a little spark 



THE HEART. 147 

Lent by thee, 
I shall see 
More by it than all the light, 
Which in fullest measure streams 
From corrupted nature's beams, 
Can discover to my sight. 



Though mine heart be ice and snow 
To the things which thou hast chosen, 
All benumb'd with cold, and frozen, 

Yet thy fire will make it glow. 
Though it burns, 
When it turns 

Towards the things which thou dost hate, 
Yet thy blessed warmth, no doubt, 
Will that wild-fire soon draw out, 

And the heat thereof abate. 



Lord, thy fire is active, using 
Always either to ascend 
To its native Heav'n, or lend 

Heat to others : and diffusing 
Of its store, 
Gathers more, 

Never ceasing till it make 

All things like itself, and longing 
To see others come with thronging, 

Of thy goodness to partake. 



148 THE SCHOOL OF 

Lord, then let thy fire inflame 
My cold heart so thoroughly, 
That the heat may never die, 

But continue still the same: 
That I may 
Ev'ry day 

More and more, consuming sin, 
Kindling others, and attending 
All occasions of ascending, 

Heaven upon earth begin. 



THE HEART. 



149 




THE LADDER OF THE HEART. 

Would you scale Heav'n, and use a ladder's aid? 
Then in thy heart let the first step be made. 

PSALM LXXXIV. 5. 

In whose heart are the ways of them. 

Epig. 37. 

Wouldst thou, my love, a ladder have, whereby 
Thou may'st climb Heaven, to sit down on high ? 
In thine ownheart, then, frame thee steps, and bend 
Thy mind to muse how thou may'st there ascend. 



150 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXXVII. 

The Soul. 

What ! 
Shall I 
Always lie 
Grov'ling on earth, 
Where there is no mirth? 
Why should I not ascend 
And climb up, where I may mend 
My mean estate of misery? 
Happiness, I know, is exceeding high : 
Yet sure there is some remedy for that. 



Christ. 

True, 
There is. 
Perfect bliss 
May be had above i 
But he, that will obtain 
Such a gold-exceeding gain, 
Must never think to reach the same, 
And scale Heav'n's walls, until he frame 
A ladder in his heart as near as new. 



THE HEART. 161 



The Soul. 

Loru, 
I will: 
Bat the skill 
Is not mine own: 
Such an art's not known ? 
Unless thou wilt it teach : 
It is far above the reach 
Of mortal minds to understand. 
But if thou wilt lend thine helping hand; 
I will endeavour to obey thy word* 



Christ. 

Well 
Then, see 
That thou be 
As ready prest 
To perform the rest, 
As now to piomise fair: 
And I'll teach thee how to rear 
A scaling-ladder in thine heart 
To mount Heav'n with : no rules of art, 
But I alone, can the composure tell. 



152 THE SCHOOL OF 

First, 
Thou must 
Take on trust 
All that I say; 
Reason must not sway 
Thy judgment cross to mine, 
But her sceptre quite resign. 
Faith must be both thy ladder's sides, 
Which will stay thy steps whate'er betides, 
And satisfy thine hunger, and thy thirst. 



Then, 
The round 
Next the ground, 
Which I must see, 
Is humility : 
From which thou must ascend, 
And with perseverance end. 
Virtue to virtue, grace to grace, 
Must each orderly succeed in Jfts place ; 
And when thou hast done all, begin again. 



THE HEART. 




153 



THE FLYING OF THE HEART. 

O that on wings my weary heart could rise, 
Quit this vain world, and se^k her native skies ! 

ISAIAH LX. Jp. 

Who are those that fly as a cloiid, and as the doves 
to their ivindows? 

Epig. 38. 

Oh that mine heart had wings like to a dove, 
That I might quickly hasten hence, and move 
With speedy flight towards the celestial spheres, 
As weary of this world, its faults and fears. 



154 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XXXVIII. 



This way, though pleasant, yet methinks is long 
Step after step, makes little haste, 
And I am not so strong 
As still to last 
Among 
So great, 
So many lets : 
Swelter'd and swill'd in sweat, 
My toiling soul both fumes and frets, 
As though she were inclin'd to a retreat. 

Corruption clogs my feet like filthy clay, 
And I am ready still to slip : 
Which makes me often stay, 
When I should trip 
Away. 
My fears 
And faults are such, 
As challenge all my tears 
So justly, that it were not much, 
If I in weeping should spend all my years. 

This makes me weary of the world below, 
And greedy of a place above, 
On which I may bestow 
My choicest love ; 



THE HEART. 155 

And so 
Obtain 
That favour, which 
Excels all worldly gain, 
And niaketh the possessor rich 
In happiness of a transcendent strain. 



What! must I still be rooted here below, 
And rivetted unto the ground, 
Wherein mine haste to grow 
Will be, though sound, 
But slow? 
I know 
The sun exhales 
Gross vapours from below, 
Which, scorning as it were the vales, 
On mountain-topping clouds themselves bestow. 



But my fault-frozen heart is slow to move, 
Makes poor proceedings at the best, 
As though it did not love, 
Nor long for rest 
Above, 
Mine eyes 
Can upward look, 
As though they did despise 
All things on earth, and could not brook 
Their presence : but mine heart is slow to rise. 



156 THE SCHOOL OF 

Oh that it were once winged like the dove, 
That in a moment mounts on high, 
Then should it soon remove 
Where it may lie 
In love. 
And lo, 
This one desire 
Methinks hath imp'd it so, 
That it already flies like fire, 
And e'en my verses into wings do grow. 



i 



THE HEART. 



157 




^1/iP- 




THE UNION OF THE HEART. 

Live ye united minds, and social hearts, 
To whom one love but one desire imparts. 

EZEK. XI. 19. 

I will give them one heart. 

Epig. 39. 

Like-minded minds, hearts alike heartily 
Affected, will together live and die : 
Many things meet and part : but love's great cable, 
Tying two hearts, makes them inseparable. 



158 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XXXIX. 

The Soul. 
All this is not enough : methinks I grow 
More greedy by fruition : what I get 
Serves but to set 
An edge upon mine appetite, 
And all thy gifts do but invite 
My pray'rs for more. 
Lord, if thou wilt not still increase my store, 
Why didst thou any thing at all bestow? 

Christ. 
And is't the fruit of having, still to crave? 
Then let thine heart united be to mine, 
And mine to thine, 
In a firm union, whereby 
We may no more be thou and I, 
Or I and thou, 
But both the same : and then I will avow, 
Thou canst not want what thou dost wish to have. 

The Soul. 
True, Lord, for thou art All in All to me; 
But how to get my stubborn heart to twine 
And close with thine, 
I do not know, nor can I guess 
How I should ever learn, unless 
Thou wilt direct 
The course that I must take to that effect. 
'Tis thou, not I, must knit mine heart to thee. 



THE HEART. 159 

Christ. 

'Tis true, and so I will : but yet thou must 
Do something towards it too : First, thou must lay 
All sin away, 
And separate from that, which would 
Our meeting intercept, and hold 
Us distant still : 
I am all goodness, and can close with ill 
No more than richest diamonds with dust, 



Then thou must not count any earthly thing, 
However gay and gloriously set forth, 
Of any worth, 
Compared with me, that am alone 
The' eternal, high, and holy One : 
But place thy love 
Only on me and the things above, , ♦ *' 

Which true content and endless comfort bring. 



Love is the loadstone of the heart, the glue, 
The cement, and the solder, which alone 
Unites in one 
Things that before were not the same, 
But only like ; imparts the name, 
And nature too, 
Of each to the other: nothing can undo 
The knot that's knit by love, if it be true,\ 



160 THE SCHOOL OF 

But if in deed and truth thou lovest me, 
And not in word alone, then I shall find 
That thou dost mind 
The things I mind, and regulate 
All thine affections, love, and hate, 
Delight, desire, 
Fear, and the rest, by what I do require, 
And I in thee myself shall always see. 



THE HEART. 



161 




THE REST OF THE HEART. 

My heart, of earthly scenes quite weary erown, 
Seeks for repose and rest in God alone. 

PSALM CXVI. T. 

Return unto thy rest, O my souL 

Epig. 40. 

My busy, stirring heart, that seeks the best, 
Can find no place on earth wherein to. rest: 
For God alone, the author of its bliss, 
Its only rest, its only centre is. 



162 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XL. 

Move me no more, mad world, it is in vain. 

Experience tells me plain 

I should deceived be, 
If ever I again should trust in thee. 

My weary heart hath ransack'd all 

Thy treasures, both great and small, 
And thy large inventory bears in mind : 

Yet could it never find 

One place wherein to rest, 
Though it hath often tried all the best. 



Thy profits brought me loss instead of gain, 

And all thy pleasures pain : 

Thine honours blurr'd my name 
With the deep stains of self-confounding shame. 

Thy wisdom made me turn stark fool ; 

And all the learning, that thy school 
Afforded me, was not enough to make 

Me know myself, and take 

Care of my better part, 
Which should have perished for all thine heart. 

Not that there is not a place of rest in thee 

For others : but for me 

There is, there can be none; 
That God, that made mine heart, is he alone 



THE HEART. 165 

That of himself both can and will 

Give rest unto my thoughts, and fill 
Them full of all content and quietness; 

That so I may possess 

My soul in patience, 
Until he find it time to call me hence. 

On thee, then, as a sure foundation, 

A tried comer stone, 

Lord, I will strive to raise 
The tow'r of my salvation, and thy praise. 

In thee, as in my centre, shall 

The lines of all my longings fall. 
To thee, as to mine anchor, surely tied, 

My ship shall safely ride. 

On thee, as on my bed 
Of soft repose, I'll rest my weary head. 

Thou, thou alone, shalt be my whole desire; 

I'll nothing else require 

But thee, or for thy sake. 
In thee I'll sleep secure ; and, when I wake, 

Thy glorious face shall satisfy 

The longing of my looking eye. 
I'll roll myself on thee, as on my rock, 

When threat'ning dangers mock. 

Of thee, as of my treasure, 
I'll boast and brag, my comforts know no mea- 
sure. 



164 THE SCHOOL OF 

Lord, thou shalt be mine AH, I will not know 

A profit here below, 

But what reflects on thee : 
Thou shalt be all the pleasure I will see 

In any thing the earth affords. 

Mine heart shall own no words 
Of honour, out of which I cannot raise 

The matter of thy praise. 

Nay, I will not be mine, 
Unless thou wilt vouchsafe to have me thine. 



THE HEART, 



165 




THE BATHING OF THE HEART WITH 
THE BLOODY SWEAT. 

Christ's bloody sweat immortal blessings gives, 
As by its daily sweat man's body lives. 

JOEL III. 21. 

/ will cleanse their blood, that I have not cleansed, 
Epig. 41. 

1 his bath thy Saviour sweat with drops of blood, 
Sick heart, on purpose for to do thee good. 
They that have tried it can the virtue tell ; 
Come, then, and use it, if thou wait be well. 



166 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XLI. 

All this thy God hath done for thee ; 

And now, mine heart, 
It is high time that thou shouldst be 
Acting thy part, 
And meditating on his blessed passion, 
Till thou hast made it thine by imitation. 

That exercise will be the best 

And surest means, 
To keep thee evermore at rest, 
And free from pains. 
To suffer with thy Saviour is the way 
To make thy present comforts last for aye. 

Trace then the steps wherein he trod, 

And first begin 
To sweat with him. The heavy load, 
Which for thy sin 
He underwent, squeez'd blood out of his face, 
Which in great drops came trickling down apace. 

Oh let not, then, that precious blood 

Be spilt in vain, 
But gather ev'ry drop. 'Tis good 
To purge the stain 
Of guilt, that hath denTd and overspread 
Thee from the sole of the foot to the crown of 
the head. 



THE HEART* 167 

Poison possesseth every vein -, 

The fountain is 
Corrupt, and all the streams unclean : 
All is amiss. 
Thy blood's impure ; yea, thou thyself, mine hearty 
In all thine inward powers polluted art. 



When thy first father did ill, 

Man's doom was read, 
That in the sweat of his face he still 
Should eat his bread. 
What the first Adam in a garden caught, 
The second Adam in a garden taught. 



Taught by his own example, how 

To sweat for sin, 
Under that heavy weight to bow, 
And never lin 
Begging release, till, with strong cries and tears, 
The soul be drain'd of all its faults and fears* 



If sin's imputed guilt oppress'd 

The' Almighty so, 
That his sad soul could find no rest 
Under that woe : 
But that the bitter agony he felt 
Made his pure blood, if not to sweat, to melt; 



168 THE SCHOOL 6F 

Then let that huge inherent mass 

Of sin, that lies 
In heaps on thee, make thee surpass 
% k In tears and cries, 
Striving with all thy strength, until thou sweat 
Such drops as his, though not as good as great. 

And if he think it fit to lay 

Upon thy back 
Or pains or duties, as he may, 
Until it crack, 
Shrink not away, but strain thine utmost force 
To bear them cheerfully without remorse. 



THE HEART. 



169 




THE BINDING OF THE HEART WITH 
THE CORDS OF CHRIST. 

My sins made thee a cruel bondage prove : 
O bind my heart to thee with cords of love. 

HOS. XI. 4. 

I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love. 
Epig. 42. 

My sins, I do confess a cord were found 
Heavy and hard by thee, when thou wast bound, 
Great Lord oflove, with them ;butthouhasttwin'd 
Gentle love-cords my tender heart to bind. 



170 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XLII. 

What ! could those hands, 
That made the world, be subject unto bands? 

Could there a cord be found, 
Wherewith Omnipotence itself was bound? 
Wonder, my heart, and stand amaz'd to see 

The Lord of liberty 
Led captive for thy sake, and in thy stead. 

Although he did 
Nothing deserving death, or bands, yet he 
Was bound, and put to death, to set thee free. 



Thy sins had tied 
Those bands for thee, wherein thou shouldst have 
died: 
And thou didst daily knit 
Knots upon knots, whereby thou mad'st them sit 
Closer and faster to thy faulty self. 
Helpless and hopeless, friendless and forlorn, 

The sink of scorn, 
And kennel of contempt, thou shouldst have lain 
Eternally enthrall'd to endless pain ; 

Had not the Lord 
Of love and life been pleased to afford 

His helping hand of grace, 
And freely put himself into thy place. 



THE HEART. 171 

So were thy bands transferr'd, but not untied, 

Until the time he died, 
And, by his death, vanquish'd and conquerM all 

That Adam's fall 
Had made victorious. Sin, death, and hell, 
Thy fatal foes, under his footstool fell. 



Yet he meant not 
That thou shouldst use the liberty he got 

As it should like thee best; 
To wander as thou listest, or to rest 
In soft repose, careless of his commands : 

He that hath loos'd those bands, 
Whereby thou wast enslaved to the foes, 

Binds thee with those 
Wherewith he bound himself to do thee good, 
The bands of love, love writ in lines of blood. 



His love to thee 
Made him to lay aside his majesty, 

And, clothed in a vail 
Of frail, though faultless flesh, become thy bail. 
But love requireth love : and since thou art 

Loved by him, thy part 
It is to love him too : and love affords 

The strongest cords 
That can be : for it ties, not hands alone, 
But heads, and hearts, and souls, and all in one. 



\7 C Z THE SCHOOL OF 

Come then, mine heart, 
And freely follow the prevailing art 

Of thy Redeemer's love. 
That strong magnetic tie hath pow'r to move 
The steelest stubbornness. If thou but twine 

And twist his love with thine, 
And, by obedience, labour to express 

Thy thankfulness, 
It will be hard to say on whether side 
The bands are surest, which is fastest tied. 



THE HEART. 



173 




CHRIST'S PILLAR THE PROP OF THE 
HEART. 

Nor fruits, nor flowers, require my weaken'd heart; 
Her pillar, Christ, can lasting aid impart. 

PSALM CXII. 7, 8. 

His heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord, His heart 
is established, he shall not be afraid* 

Epig. 43. 

JVIy weak and feeble heart a prop must use, 
But pleasant fruits and flowers doth refuse : 
My Christ my pillar is ; on him rely, 
Repose, and rest myself, alone will I. 



174 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XLIII. 

Suppose it true, that, whilst thy Saviour's side 
Was furrowed with scourges, he was tied 

Unto some pillar fast : 
Think not, mine heart, it was because he could 
Not stand alone, or that left loose he would 

Have shrunk away at last ; 
Such weakness suits not with Omnipotence, 
Nor could man's malice match his patience. 

But, if so done, 'twas done to tutor thee, 
Whose frailty and impatience he doth see 

Such, that thou hast nor strength 
Nor will, as of thyself, to undergo 
The least degree of duty or of woe, 

But wouldst be sure at length 
To flinch or faint, or not to stand at all, 
Or in the end more fearfully to fall ; 

Thy very frame and figure, broad above, 
Narrow beneath, apparently doth prove 

Thou canst not stand alone, 
Without a prop to bolster and to stay thee. 
To trust to thine own strength, would soon be- 
tray thee. 

Alas ! thou now art grown 
So weak and feeble, wav'ring and unstaid, 
Thou shrink'st at the least weight that's on thee laid. 



THE HEART. 175 

The easiest commandments thou declinest, 
And at the lightest punishment thou whinest: 

Thy restless motions are 
Innumerable, like the troubled sea, 
Whose waves are toss'd and tumbled ev'ry way. 

The hound-pursued hare 
Makes not so many doubles as thou dost, 
Till thy cross'd courses in themselves are lost. 



Get thee some stay that may support thee then, 
And stablish thee, lest thou shouldst start again. 

But where may it be found? 
Will pleasant fruits or flow'rs serve the turn? 
No, no, my tott'ring heart will overturn 

And lay them on the ground. 
Dainties may serve to minister delight, 
But strength is only from the Lord of might. 



Betake thee to thy Christ, then, and repose 
Thyself, in all extremities, on those 
His everlasting arms, 
jj Wherewith he girds the heavens, and upholds 
The pillars of the earth, and safely folds 

His faithful flock from harms. 
Cleave close to him by faith, and let the bands 
I Of love tie thee in thy Redeemers hands. 



176 THE SCHOOL OF 

Come life, eome death, come devils, come what 

will, 
Yet, fastened so, thou shalt stand steadfast still : 

And all the powers of hell 
Shall not prevail to shake thee with their shock, 
So long as thou art founded on that Rock : 

No duty shall thee quell, 
No danger shall disturb thy quiet state, 
Nor soul-perplexing fears thy mind amate. 



THE HEART. 



177 




THE HEART A CUP TO A THIRSTING CHRIST. 
Refuse the cup of gall, O Spouse divine ; 
But wounded hearts afford a pleasant wine. 

THE SCOURGING OF THE HEART. 

PROV. X. 13. 

A rod is for the back of him that is void of under- 
standing. 

Epig. 44. £ Love? 

When thou withhold'st thy scourges, dearest 
My sluggish heart is slack, and slow to move : 
Oh let it not stand still; but lash it rather, 
And drive it, though unwilling, to thy Father. 



178 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XLIV. 

What do those scourges on that sacred flesh, 

Spotless and pure? 
Must he, that doth sin-wearied souls refresh, 

Himself endure 
Such tearing tortures? Must those sides be gash'd? 

Those shoulders lash'd? 
Is this the trimming that the world bestows 
Upon such robes of Majesty as those? 

I'st not enough to die, unless by pain 

Thou antedate 
Thy death before-hand, Lord? What dost thou 
mean? 

To aggravate 
The guilt of sin, or to enhance the price 

Thy sacrifice 
x4mounts to? Both are infinite, I know, 
And can by no additions greater grow. 

Yet dare I not imagine, that in vain 

Thou didst endure 
One stripe : though not thine own thereby, my gain 

Thou didst procure, 
That when I shall be scourged for thy sake, 

Thy stripes may make 
Mine acceptable, that 1 may not grutch, 
When I remember thou hast borne as much : 



THE HEART. , 179 

As much, and more for me. Come, then, mine 
heart, 

And willingly 
Submit thyself to suffer: smile at smart, 

And death defy. 
Fear not to feel that hand correcting thee, 

Which set thee free. 
Stripes, as the tokens of his love, he leaves, 
Who scourgeth ev'ry son whom he receives. 



There's foolishness bound up within thee fast : 

But yet the rod 
Of fatherly correction at the last, 

If bless'd by God, 
Will drive it far away, and wisdom give, 

That thou may'st live ; 
Not to thyself, but him that first was slain, 
And died for thee, and then rose again. 



Thou art not only dull, and slow of pace, 

But stubborn too, 
And refractory ; ready to outface, 

Rather than do 
Thy duty : though thou know'st it must be so, 

Thou wilt not go 
The way thou shouldst, till some affliction 
First set thee right, then prick and spur thee on. 



180 THE SCHOOL OF 

Top-like thy figure and condition is, 

Neither to stand, 
Nor stir thyself alone, whilst thou dost miss 

An helping hand 
To set thee up, and store of stripes bestow 

To make thee go. 
Beg, then, thy blessed Saviour to transfer 
His scourges unto thee, to make thee stir. 



THE HEART. 



181 




THE HEDGING OF THE HEART WITH 
A CROWN OF THORNS. 

This thorny diadem, O heart, behold; 

Thus hedg'd, no savage can approach the fold. 

HOSEA II. 6. 

I will hedge up thy way with thm % ns. 

Epig, 45. 

He, that of thorns would gather roses, may 
In his own heart, if handled the right way. 
Hearts hedgll with Christ's crown of thorns, in- 
stead 
Of thorny cares, will sweetest roses breed. 



132 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XLV. 

A crown of thorns! I thought so: ten to one, 

A crown without a thorn, there's none : 
There's none on earth, I mean \ what, shall I, then, 

Rejoice to see him crown'd by men, 
By whom kings rule and reign? Or shall I scorn 

And hate to see earth's curse, a thorn, 
Prepost'rously preferr'd to crown those brows, 

From whence all bliss and glory flows ? 
Or shall I both be clad, 
And also sad, 
To think it is a crown, and yet so bad ? 



There's cause enough of both, I must confess ; 

Yet what's that unto me, unless 
I take a course his crown of thorns may be 
Made mine, transferr'd from him to me? 
Crowns, had they been of stars, could add no more 

Glory, where there was all before ; 
And thorns might scratch him, could not make 
him worse, 
Than he was made, sin and a curse. 
Come, then, mine heart, take down 
Thy Saviour's crown 
Of thorns, and see if thou canst make't thine own. 



THE HEART. 185 

Remember, first, thy Saviour's head was crown'd 

By the same hands that did him wound: 
They meant it not to honour, but to scorn him, 

When in such sort they had betorn him. 
Think earthly honours such, if they redound : 
Never believe they mind to dignify 
Thee, that thy Christ would crucify. 
Think ev'ry crown a thorn, 
Unless to adorn 
Thy Christ, as well as him by whom 'tis worn. 



Consider, then, that as the thorny crown 

Circled thy Saviour's head, thine own 
Continual care to please him, and provide 

For the advantage of his side, 
Must fence thine actions and affections so, 

That they shall neither dare to go 
Out of that compass, nor vouchsafe access 

To what might make that care go less. 
Let no such thing draw nigh, 
Which shall not spy 
Thorns ready plac'd to prick it till it die. 



Thus, compass'd with thy Saviour's thorny crown^ 
Thou may's t securely sit thee down, 

And hope that he, who made of water wine, 
Will turn each thorn into a vine, 



184 THE SCHOOL OF 

Where thou may'st gather grapes, and, to delight 
thee, 
Roses : nor need the prickles fright thee, 
Thy Saviour's sacred temples took away 
The curse that in their sharpness lay. 
So thou may'st crowned be, 
As well as he, 
And, at the last, light in his light shalt see, 



THE HEART. 



185 




THE HEART PIERCED WITH THE NAIL OF GOD'S 

FEAR. 

With holy fear let my heart fasfned be, 

O thou, once fast'ned to the cross for me. 

THE FASTENING OF THE HEART. 

JER. XXXII. 40. 

/ will put my fear in their hearts, that they shall 
not depart from me. 

jEpig. 46. 

X hou that wast nailed to the cross for me, 
Lest I should slip, and fall away from thee, 
Drive home thine holy fear into mine heart, 
And clinch it so, that it may ne'er depart. 



186 THE SCHOOL OF 



ODE XLVI. 

What ! dost thou struggle to get loose again ! 
Hast thou so soon forgot the former pain, 
That thy licentious bondage unto sin, 
And lust-enlarged thraldom, put thee in? 
Hast thou a mind again to rove, and ramble 
Rogue-like, a vagrant through the world, and 

scramble 
For scraps and crusts of earth-bred, base delights, 
And change thy days of joy for tedious nights 

Of sad repentant sorrow ! 
What! wilt thou borrow 
That grief to-day, which thou must pay to-morrow ? 



No, self-deceiving heart, lest thou shouldst cast 
Thy cords away, and burst the bands at last 
Of thy Redeemer's tender love, I'll try 
What further fastness in his fear doth lie. 
The cords of love soaked in lust may rot, 
And bands of bounty are too oft forgot: 
But holy filial fear, like to a nail 
Fasten'd in a sure place, will never fail. 
This driven home, will take 
Fast hold, and make 
Thee that thou darest not thy God forsake. 



THE HEART. 187 

Remember how, besides thy Saviour's bands, 
Wherewith they led him bound, his holy hands 
And feet were pierced, how they naird him fast 
Unto his bitter cross, and how at last 
His precious side was gored with a spear : 
So hard sharp-pointed iron and steel did tear 
His tender flesh, that from those wounds might 

flow 
The sov'reign salve for sin-procured woe. 

Then, that thou may'st not fail 
Of that avail, 
Refuse not to be fasten'd with his nail. 

Love in a heart of flesh is apt to taint, 
Or be fly-blown with folly: and its faint, 
And feeble spirits, when it shows most fair, 
Are often fed on by the empty air 
Of popular applause, unless the salt 
Of holy fear in time prevent the fault: 
But, season'd so, it will be kept for ever. 
He that doth fear, because he loves, will never 
Adventure to offend, 
But always bend 
His best endeavours to content his friend. 

Though perfect love cast out all servile fear, 
Because such fear hath torment : yet thy dear 
Redeemer meant not so to set thee free, 
That filial fear and thou should strangers be. 



188 THE SCHOOL OF 

Though, as a son, thou honour him thy Father, 
Yet, as a Master, thou may'st fear him rather. 
Fear's the soul's centinel, and keeps the heart, 
Wherein love lodges, so, that all the art 
And industry of those, 
That are its foes, 
Cannot betray it to its former woes. 



THE HEART. 



J 89 




THE NEW WINE OF THE HEART OUT 
OF THE PRESS OF THE CROSS. 

Behold, the Cyprian clusters now are press'd ; 
Accept the wine, it flows to make thee bless'd. 

PSALM CIV. 15. 

Wine that rnaketh glad the heart of man. 

Epig* 47. 

Uhrist the true vine, grape, cluster, on the cross 
Trod the wine-press alone, unto the loss [not : 
Of blood and life. Draw, thankful heart, and spare 
Here's wine enough for all, save those that care not. 



190 THE SCHOOL OF 

ODE XLVIL 

Leave not thy Saviour now, whate'er thou dost, 

Doubtful, distrustful heart; 
Thy former pains and labours all are lost, 

If now thou shalt depart, 
And faithlessly fall off at last from him, 
Who, to redeem thee, spar'd nor life nor limb. 

Shall he, that is thy cluster and thy vine, 

Tread the wine-press alone, 
Whilst thou stand'st looking on? Shall both the 
wine 

And work be all his own? 
See how he bends, crush'd with the straighten'd 

screw 
Of that fierce wrath that to thy sins was due. 

Although thou canst not help to bear it, yet 

Thrust thyself under too, 
That thou may'st feel some of the weight, and get, 

Although not strength to do, 
Yet will to suffer something as he doth, 
That the same stress at once may squeeze you both. 

Thy Saviour being press'd to death, there ran 

Out of his sacred wounds 
That wine that maketh glad the heart of man, 

And all his foes confounds ; 
Yea, the full-flowing fountain's open still, 
For all grace- thirsting hearts to drink their fill: 



THE HEART. 191 

And not to drink alone, to satiate 

Their longing appetites, 
Or drown those cumb'rous cares that would abate 

The edge of their delights ; 
But, when they toil, and soil themselves with sin, 
Both to refresh, to purge, to cleanse them in. 



Thy Saviour hath begun this cup to thee, 
And thou must not refuse't. 

Press then thy sin-swoln sides, until they be 
Empty, and fit to use't. 

Do not delay to come, when he doth call; 

Nor fear to want, where there's enough for all. 

- 

Thy bounteous Redeemer, in his blood, 

Fills thee not wine alone, 
But likewise gives his flesh to be thy food, 

Which thou may'st make thine own, 
And feed on him who hath himself reveal'd 
The bread of life, by God the Father seal'd. 



Nay, he's not food alone, but physic too, 

Whenever thou art sick; 
And in thy weakness strength, that thou may'st do 

Thy duty, and not stick 
At any thing that he requires of thee, 
How hard soever it may seem to be. 



192 THE SCHOOL OF 

Make all the haste, then, that thou canst to come ?j 

Before the day be past ; 
And think not of returning to thy home, 

Whilst yet the light dost last. 
The longer and the more thou draw's t this wine, 
Still thou shalt find it more and more divine. 

Or if thy Saviour think it meet to throw 

Thee in the press again, 
To suffer as he did ; yet do not grow 

Displeased at thy pain : 
A summer season follows winter weather- 
SufF'ring, you shall be glorified together* 



REV. XXII. 17. 

The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let] 

him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is 

athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the 

water of life freely. 



THE CONCLUSION, 



Is this my period? Have I now no more 

To do hereafter? Shall my mind give o'er 

Its best employment thus, and idle be, 

Or busied otherwise? Should I not see 

How to improve my thoughts more thriftily, 

Before I lay these Heart-School lectures by ? 

Self-knowledge is an everlasting task, 

An endless work, that doth not only ask 

A whole man for the time, but challengeth 

To take up all his hours until death. 

Yet, as in other schools, they have a care 

To call for repetitions, and are 

Busied as well in seeking to retain 

What they have learn'd already, as to gain 

Further degrees of knowledge, and lay by 

Invention, whilst they practise memory : 

So must I likewise take some time to view 

What I have done, ere I proceed anew. 

Perhaps I may have cause to interline, 

To alter, or to add : the work is mine, 

And I may manage it as I see best, 

With my great Master's leave. Then here I rest 

From taking out new lessons, till I see 

How I retain the old in memory. 



194 THE CONCLUSION. 

And if it be his pleasure, I shall say 
These lessons before others, that they may 
Or learn them too, or only censure me; 
I'll wait with patience the success to see. 
And though I look not to have leave to play 
(For that this school allows not,) yet I may 
Another time, perhaps, if they approve 
Of these, such as they are, and show their love 
To the School of the Heart, by calling for't, 
Add other lessons more of the like sort. 



THE 

LEARNING OF THE HEART. 



THE PREFACE. 

I am a scholar. The great Lord of love" 
And life my tutor is ; who, from above, 
All that lack learning, to his school invites. 
My heart's my prayer-book, in which he writes 
Systems of all the arts and faculties: 
First reads to me, then makes me exercise, 
But all in paradoxes, such high strains 
As flow from none but love-inspired brains : 
Yet bids me publish them abroad, and dare 
T' extol his arts above all other arts that are. 
Why should I not? methinks it cannot be 
But they should please others as well as me. 
Come, then, join hands, and let our hearts embrace, 
Whilst thus Love's labyrinth of arts we trace; 
I mean the Sciences call'd Liberal : 
Both Trivium and Quadrivium, seven in all. 
With the higher faculties, Philosophy j 
And Law, and Physic, and Theology. 



196 THE LEARNING OF 

THE GRAMMAR OF THE HEART. 

PSALM XV, 2. 

That speaketh the truth in his heart. 

lVlY Grammar, I define to be an art 
Which teacheth me to write and speak mine heart; 
By which I learn that smooth-tongu'd flatt'ries are 
False language, and, in love, irregular. 
Amongst my letters, Vow-wells, I admit 
Of none but Consonant to Sacred Writ : 
And therefore, when my soul in silence moans, 
Half-vowel'd sighs,and double deep-thong'd groans, 
Mute looks, and liquid tears instead of words, 
Are of the language that mine heart affords. 
And, since true love abhors all variations, 
My Grammar hath no moods nor congugations, 
Tenses, nor persons, nor declensions, 
Cases, nor genders, nor comparisons : 
Whate'er my Letters are, my Word's but one,, 
And, on the meaning of it, Love alone. 
Concord is all my Syntax, and agreement 
Is in my Grammar perfect regiment. 

He wants no language that hath learn'd to love : 

When tongues are still, hearts will be heard 

above. 



THE HEART. 197 

THE RHETORIC OF THE HEART. 

PSALM XLV. 1. 

My heart is inditing a good matter. 

JYIy Rhetoric is not so much an art, 
As an infused habit in mine heart, 
Which a sweet secret elegance instils, 
And all my speech with tropes and figures fills. 
Love is the tongue's elixir, which doth change 
The ordinary sense of words, and range 
Them under other kinds; dispose them so, 
That to the height of eloquence they grow, 
E'en in their native plainness, and must be 
So understood as liketh love and me. 
When I say Christ, I mean my Saviour- 
When his commandment, my behaviour: 
For to that end it was he hither came, 
And to this purpose 'tis I bear his name, 
When I say, Hallow'd be thy name, he knows 
I would be holy : for his glory grows 
Together with my good, and he hath not 
Given more honour than himself hath got. 
So when I say, Lord, let thy kingdom come, 
He understands it, I would be at home, 
To reign with him in glory. So grace brings 
My Love, in me, to be the King of kings. 
He teacheth me to say, Thy will be done, 
But raeaneth, he would have me do mine own. 



198 THE LEARNING OF 

By making me to will the same he doth, 

And so to rule myself, and serve him both. 

So when he saith, My son, give me thine heart, 

I know his meaning is, that I should part 

With all I have for him, give him myself, 

And to be rich in him from worldly pelf. 

So when he says, Come to me, I know that he 

Means I should wait his coming unto me; 

Since 'tis his coming unto me that makes 

Me come to him : my part he undertakes. 

And when he says, Behold I come, I know 

His purpose and intent is, I should go, 

With all the speed I can, to meet him whence 

His coming is attractive, draws me hence. 

Thick-folded repetitions in love 

Are no tautologies, but strongly move 

And bind unto attention. Exclamations 

Are the heart's heav'n-piercing exaltations. 

Epiphonoemas and Apostrophes 

Love likes of well, but no Prosopopes. 

Not doubtful but careful deliberations, 

Love holds as grounds of strongest resolutions. 

Thus love and I a thousand ways can find 

To speak and understand each other's mind ; 

And descant upon that which unto others 

Is but plain song, and all their music smothers. 

Nay, that which worldly wit-worms call nonsense, 

Is many times love's purest eloquence. 



I! 






THE HEART. 199 

THE LOGIC OF THE HEART. 

, 1 PETER III. 15. 

Be ready always to give an answer to every man that 
usketh you a reason of the hope that is in you. 

NLy Logic is the faculty of faith, 
Where all things are resolv'd into, He saith; 
And ergos, drawn from trust and confidence, 
Twist and tie truths with stronger consequence 
Than either sense or reason : for the heart, 
And not the head, is fountain of this art. 
And what the heart objects, none can resolve 
But God himself, till death the frame dissolve* 
Nay, faith can after death dispute with dust, 
And argue ashes into stronger trust, 
And better hopes, than brass and marble can 
Be emblems of unto the outward man. 
All my invention is, to find what terms 
My Lord and I stand in: how he confirms 
His promises to me, how I inherit 
What he hath purchas'd for me by his merit 
My judgment is submission to his will, 
And, when he once hath spoken, to be still. 
My method's to be ordered by him; 
What he disposeth, that I think most trim. 
Love's arguments are all, I will, Thou must ; 
What he says and commands, are true and just. 
When to dispute and argue's out of season, 
Then to believe and to obey is reason. 




This bubble's Man; hope, fear, false joy, and trouble, 
Are those four wjnds which daily toss this bubble. 






TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 

(BOTH IN BLOOD AND VIRTUE) 

AND MOST ACCOMPLISHED LADY, 

MARY, 

COUNTESS OF DORSET, 
LADY GOVERNESS TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS 

CHARLES, 

PRINCE OF GREAT BRITAIN, 
AND 

JAMES, 

DUKE OF YORK* 



EXCELLENT LADY, 

1 present these tapers to burn under the safe 
protection of your honourable name; where, I 
presume, they stand secure from the damps of 
ignorance, and blasts of censure. It i& a small 
part of that abundant service which my thankful 
heart oweth to your incomparable goodness. Be 
pleased to honour it with your acceptance, which 
shall be nothing but what your own esteem shall 
make it. 

Madam, 

Your Ladyship's 

Most humble servant, 

FRAN. QUARLES. 



TO THE READER. 



If you are satisfied with my Emblems, I here 
set before you a second service. It is an iEgyp- 
tian dish, dressed on the English fashion. They, 
at their feasts, used to present a death's-head at 
their second course: this will serve for both. 
You need not fear a surfeit: here is but little, 
and that light of digestion: if it but please your 
palate, I question not your stomach. Fall to, 
and much good may it do you. 



Convivio addit Minerval. E.B. 
Rem, Regent, Regimen, Regionem, Religionem, 
Exornat, celebrat, laudat, honorat, amat. 



HIEROGLYPHICS. 
1. 




Sine Lumine inane. 
How canst thou thus be useful to the sight? 
What is the taper not endu'd with light? 

PSALM LI. 5. 

Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did 
my mother conceive me* 

Man is man's A, B, C. There's none that can 
Read God aright, unless he first spell man : 
Man is the stairs, whereby his knowledge climbs 
To his Creator, though it oftentimes 



206 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Stumbles for want of light, and sometimes trips 
For want of carefnl heed ; and sometimes slips 
Through unadvised haste; and when at length 
His weary steps have reach'd the top, his strength 
Oft fails to stand; his giddy brains turn round, 
And, Phaeton-like, falls headlong to the ground: 
These stairs are often dark, and full of danger 
To him, whom want of practice makes a stranger 
To this blind way ; the lamp of nature lends 
But a false light, and lights to her own ends. 
These be the ways to Heav'n, these paths require 
A light that springs from that diviner fire, 
Whose human soul-enlight'ning sun-beams dart 
Through tne bright crannies of the' immortal part. 
And here, thou great original of light, 
Whose error-chasing beams do unbenight 
The very soul of darkness, and untwist 
The clouds of ignorance; do thou assist 
My feeble quill: reflect thy sacred rays 
Upon these lines, that they may light the ways 
That lead to thee; so guide my heart, my hand, 
That I may do what others understand. 
Let my heart practise what my hand shall write ; 
Till then, I am a taper wanting light. 
This golden precept, " Know thyself," came down 
From Heav'n's high court: it was an art unknown 
To flesh and blood. The men of nature took 
Great journeys in it; their dim eyes did look 
But through the mist; like pilgrims, they did spend 
Their idle steps, but knew no journeys end. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 207 

The way to know thyself, is first to cast 
Thy frail beginning, progress, and thy last : 
This is the sum of man ; but now return, 
And view this taper standing in this urn. 
Behold her substance sordid and impure, 
Useless and vain, (wanting light) obscure : 
'Tis but a span at longest, nor can last 
Beyond that span • ordain'd and made to waste ; 
E'en such was man (before his soul gave light 
To this vile substance) a mere child of night ; 
Ere he had life, estated in his urn, 
And mark'd for death; by nature born to burn: 
Thus lifeless, lightless, worthless, first began 
That glorious, that presumptuous thing, call'd man. 



208 HIEROGLYPHICS <7F 

S. Augvst. 
Consider, O man, what thou wert before th^ 
birth; and what thou art from thy birth to thy 
death, and what thou shalt be after death : thou 
wert made of an impure substance, clothed and 
nourished in thy mother's blood. 



Epig» 1. 
Forbear, fond taper : what thou seek'st, is fire i 
Thy own destruction's lodg'd in thy desire; 
Thy wants are far more safe than their supply : 
He that begins to live, begins to die. 



THE LIFE OF MAN, 



209 




Nescius wide. 
At length thou seest it catch the living flame, 
But know'st not whence the emanation came. 

GEN. I. 3. 

And God said, Let there be light ; and there was 
light, 

1 his flame-expecting taper hath at length 
Received fire, and now begins to burn: 

It hath no vigour yet, it hath no strength; 
Apt to be puff'd and quench'd at ev'ry turn: 



210 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

'It was a gracious hand that thus endow'd 
This snuff with flame: but mark, this hand 
doth shroud 
Itself from mortal eyes, and folds it in a cloud. 

Thus man begins to live. An unknown flame 

Quickens his finish'd organs, now possest 
With motion; and which motion doth proclaim 
An active soul, though in a feeble breast; 
But how, and when infus'd, ask not my pen ; 
Here flies a cloud before the eyes of men : 
J cannot tell thee how, nor canst thou tell me when. 

Was it a parcel of celestial fire, 

Infus'd by Heav'n into this fleshly mould? 
Or was it (think you) made a soul entire? 
Tljen, was it new-created? or of old? 
Or is't a propagated spark, rak'd out 
From nature's embers? While we go about 
By reason to resolve, the more we raise a doubt. 

If it be part of that celestial flame, 

It must be e'en as pure, as free from spot, 
As that eternal fountain whence it came : 

If pure and spotless, then whence came the blot? 
Itself being pure, could not itself defile; 
Nor hath unactive matter pow'r to soil 
Her pure and active form, as jars corrupt their oil 



THE LIFE OF MAX. 21 1 

Or if it were created, tell me when? 

If in the first six days, where kept till now? 
Or if thy soul were new-created, then 
Heav'n did not all, at first, he had to do : 
Six days expired, all creation ceas'd ; 
All kinds, e'en from the greatest to the least, 
Were finish'd and complete before the day of rest. 

But why should man, the lord of creatures, want 
That privilege which plants and beasts obtain ? 
Beasts bring forth beasts, the plant a perfect plant, 
And ev'ry like brings forth her like again ; 
Shall fowls and fishes, beasts and plants convey 
Life to their issue, and man less than they? 
Shall these get living souls, and man dead lumps 
of clay? 

Must human souls be generated then ? 

My water ebbs ; behold, a rock is nigh : 
If nature's work produce the souls of men, 
Man's soul is mortal : all that's born must die. 
What shall we then conclude? what sunshine 

will 
Disperse this gloomy cloud? till then be stiH, 
My vainly-striving thoughts; lie down, my puzzled 
quill. 



212 



HIEROGLYPHICS OF 



IsiDOR* 

Why dost thou wonder, O man, at the height 
of the stars, or the depth of the sea; enter into 
thine own soul, and wonder there. 

Thy soul, by creation, is infused ; by infusion, 
created. 



Epig. 2. 
What art thou now the better by this flame? 
Thou know'st not how, nor when, nor whence it 

came : 
Poor kind of happiness ! that can return 
No more account but this, to say, I burn. 




US 



Quo me cunque trapit. 

My feeble light is thus toss'd to and fro, 
The sport ofali the envious winds that blow. 

PSALM CIII. 16. 

The wind passeth over it, and it is gone, 

rio sooner is this lighted taper set 
Upon the transitory stage 
Of eye-bedark'ning night, 
But it is straight subjected to the threat 



214 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Of envious winds, whose wasteful rage 
Disturbs her peaceful light, 
And makes her substance waste, and makes her 
flames less bright. 

No sooner are we born, no sooner come 
To take possession of this vast, 
This soul-afflicting earth, 
But danger meets us at the very womb ; 
And sorrow, with her full-mouth'd blast, 
Salutes our painful birth, 
To put out all our joys, and puff out all our mirth. 

Nor infant innocence, nor childish tears, 
Nor youthful wit, nor manly power, 
Nor politic old age, 
Nor virgin's pleading, nor the widow's prayers, 
Nor lowly cell, nor lofty tower, 
Nor prince, nor peer, nor page, 
Can 'scape this common blast, or curb her stormy 
rage. 

Our life is but a pilgrimage of blasts, 
And ev'ry blast brings forth a fear; 
And ev'ry fear a death ; 
The more it lengthens, ah! the more it wastes: 
Where, were we to continue here 
The days of long-liv'd Seth, 
Our sorrows would renew, as we renew our breath. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. $t$ 

Toss'd to and fro, our frighted thoughts are driven 
With ev'ry puff, with ev'ry tide 
Of life-consuming care; 
Our peaceful flame, that would point up to Heaven, 
Is still disturb'd, and turn'd aside ; 
And ev'ry blast of air 
Commits such waste in man, as man connot repair 

We are all born debtors, and we firmly stand 
Oblig'd for our first parents' debt, 
Besides our interest; 
Alas ! we have no harmless counterbond : 
And we are ev'ry hour beset 
With threat'nings of arrest, 
And, till we pay the debt, we can expect no rest* 

.' 

What may this sorrow-shaken life present, 
To the false relish of our taste, 
That's worth the name of sweet? 
Her minute's pleasure's chok'd with discontent, 
Her glory soil'd with ev'ry blast; 
How many dangers meet 
Poor man between the biggin and the winding- 
sheet! 



216 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

S. August. 
In the world, not to be grieved, not to be 
afflicted, not to be in danger, is impossible. 

Ibidem. 
Behold, the world is full of trouble, yet be- 
loved: what if it were a pleasing world? how 
wouldst thou delight in her calms, that canst so 
well endure her storms? 



Epig. 3. 
Art thou consumed with soul-afflicting crosses? 
Disturb'd with grief? annoy'd with worldly losses? 
Hold up thy head : the taper, lifted high, 
Will brook the wind, when lower tapers die. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 



21? 




Curando labascit. 
The flame l)y trimming bums more bright and fast ; 
But often trimming makes the taper waste. 

MATT. IX. 12. 

The whole need not a 'physician, 

Illways pruning, always cropping? 

Is her brightness still obscur'd? 
Iver dressing, ever topping? 

Always curing, never cur'd? 



218 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Too much snuffing makes a waste • 
When the spirits spend too fast, 
They will shrink at ev'ry blast. 

You that always are bestowing 
Costly pains in life repairing, 
Are but always overthrowing 
Nature's work by over-caring : 
Nature, meeting with her foe, 
In a work she hath to do, 
Takes a pride to overthrow. 

Nature knows her oWn perfection, 
And her pride disdains a tutor; 
Cannot stoop to art's correction, 
And she scorns a co-adjutor. 

Saucy art should not appear, 
Till she whisper in her ear : 
Hagar flees, if Sarah bear. 

Nature worketh for the better, 

If not hinder'd that she cannot; 
Art stands by as her abettor, 
Ending nothing she began not ; 
If distemper chance to seize, 
(Nature foil'd with the disease,) 
Art may help her if she please. 

But to make a trade of trying 
Drugs and doses, always pruning, 

Is to die for fear of dying ; 

He's untun'd, that's always tuning. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 219 

He that often loves to lack 
Dear-bought drugs, hath found a knack 
To foil the man, and feed the quack, 

O the sad, the frail condition 

Of the pride of nature's glory! 
How infirm his composition, 

And, at best, how transitory ! 

(When this riot doth impair 
Nature's weakness, then his care 
Adds more ruin by repair, 
old thy hand, health's dear maintainer, 
Life, perchance, may burn the stronger : 
Having substance to sustain her, 
She, untouch'd, may last the longer : 
When the artist goes about 
To redress her flame, I doubt. 
Oftentimes he snuffs it out. 



220 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

NlCOCLES. 

Physicians, of all men, are most happy; what 
good success soever they have, the world pro- 
claimeth ; and what faults they commit, the earth 
covereth. 



Epig. 4. 
My purse being heavy, if my light appear 
But dim, quack comes to make all clear; 
Quack, leave thy trade ; thy dealings are not right, 
Thou tak'st our weighty gold to give us light. 




221 



Te auxiliante, resurgo. 
The winds with all their breath may blow, in vain, 
For by thy help I am reviv'd again. 

PSALM XCI. 11. 

And he will give his angels charge over thee. 

O how mine eyes could please themselves, and 
spend 

Perpetual ages in this precious sight! 
How I could woo eternity, to lend 

My wasting day, an antidote for night! 



?22 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

And how my flesh could with my flesh contend, 
That views this object with no more delight! 
My work is great, my taper spends too fast : 
'Tis all I have, and soon would out or waste, 
Did not this blessed screen protect it from this 
blast. 

O, I have lost the jewel of my soul, 

And I must find it out, or I must die : 
Alas ! my sin-made darkness doth control 

The bright endeavour of my careful eye : 
I must go search and ransack ev'ry hole; 
Nor have I other light to seek it by: 

O if this light be spent, my work not done, 
My labour's worse than lost; my jewel's gone, 
And I am quite forlorn, and I am quite undone. 

You blessed angels, you that do enjoy 

The full fruition of eternal glory, 
Will you be pleased to fancy such a toy 

As man, and quit your glorious territory, 
And stoop to earth, vouchsafing to employ 

Your care to guard the dust that lies before ye ? 
Disdain you not these lumps of dying clay, 
That for your pains do oftentimes repay 
Neglect, if not disdain, and send you griev'daway ? 

This taper of our lives, that once was plac'd 

In the fair suburbs of eternity, 
Is now, alas! confin'd to ev'ry blast, 

And turn'd a maypole for the sporting fly ; 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 223 

And will you, sacred spirits, please to cast 
Your care on us, and lend a gracious eye ? 
How had this slender inch of taper been 
Blasted and blaz'd, had not this heavenly 
screen 
Curb'd the proud blast, and timely stepp'd between ! 

O goodness, far transcending the report 

Of lavish tongues ! too vast to comprehend ! 
Amazing quill, how far dost thou come short 

To express expressions that so far transcend ! 
You blessed courtiers of the' eternal court, 
Whose full-mouth'd hallelujahs have no end, 
Receive that world of praises that belongs 
To your great Sov'reign; fill your holy tongues 
With our hosannas mix'd with your seraphic songs. 



£24 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

S* Bern, 

If thou desirest the help of angels, fly the 
comforts of the world, and resist the temptations 
of the devil. 

He will give his angels charge over thee. O 
what reverence, what love, what confidence, de- 
serveth so sweet a saying! For their presence, 
reverence; for their good will, love; for their 
tuition, confidence. 



Epig, 5. 
My flame, art thou disturb'd, diseas'd, and driven 
To death with storms of grief? point thou to 

Heaven : 
One angel there shall ease thee more alone, 
Than thrice as many thousands of thy own. 



THE LIFE OF MAS. 



225 



6. 




The time shall come when all must yield their breath: 
lha " 



Tern pus erit. 
_. when all mus 
Till then, Time checks the' uplifted hand of Death. 

ECCLES. III. 1. 

To every thing there is an appointed time* 

TIME. DEATH. 

Time, Behold the frailty of this slender snuifj 

Alas! it hath not long to last; 
Without the help of either thief or puff, 

Her weakness knows the way to waste ; 
Q 



226 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Nature hath made her substance apt enough 
To spend itself, and spend too fast : 
It needs the help of none, 
That is so prone 
To lavish out untouch'd, and languish all alone. 

Death. Time, hold thy peace, and shake thy slow- 
pac'd sand ; 
Thine idle minutes make no way : 
Thy glass exceeds her hour, or else doth stand ; 

I cannot hold, I cannot stay. 
Surcease thy pleading, and enlarge my hand ; 
I surfeit with too long delay : 
This brisk, this bold-fac'd light 
Doth burn too bright; 
Darkness adorns my throne, my day is darkest 
night. 

Time. Great prince of darkness, hold thy need- 
less hand 5 
Thy captive's fast, and cannot flee : 
What arm can rescue, who can countermand? 

What power can set thy pris'ner free? 
Or if they could, what close, what foreign land 
Can hide that head that flees from thee ? 
But if her harmless light 
Offend thy sight, 
What need'st thou snatch at noon, what will be 
thine at niffht? 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 227 

Death, I have outstay'd my patience; my quick 
trade 
Grows dull, and makes too slow return : 
This long-liv'd debt is due, and should been paid 

When first her flame began to burn : 
But I have stay'd too long, I have delay'd 
To store my vast, my craving urn. 
My patent gives me pow'r 
Each day, each hour, 
To strike the peasant's thatch, and shake the 
princely tower. 

Time. Thou count'st too fast: thy patent gives 
no power 
Till Time shall please to say, Amen. 
Death. Canst thou appoint my shaft? Time. Or 

thou my hour? 
Death. 'Tis I bid, do. Time. 'Tis I bid, when; 
Alas! thou canst not make the poorest flower 
To hang the drooping head till then : 
Thy shafts can neither kill, 
Nor strike, until 
My power gives them wings, and pleasure arm-? 
thy will. 



228 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

S. August. 
Thou knowest not what time he will come: 
wait always, that because thou knowest not the 
time of his coming, thou mayest be prepared 
against the time he cometh. And for this, per- 
chance, thou knowest not the time, because thou 
mayest be prepared against all times. 



Epig. 6. 

Expect, but fear not Death : Death cannot kilf, 
Till Time (that first must seal her patent) will : 
Wouldst thou live long? keep Time in high esteem ; 
Whom gone, if thou canst not recall, redeem. 




no 



Nee si?ie, nee tecum. 
Nor with thee, nor without thee, is she bright: 
For thy fierce rays put out her feeble light. 

JOB XVIII. 6. 

His light shall be dark, and his candle shall be put 
out. 

What ails our taper? is her lustre fled, 

Or foiPd ? What dire disaster bred 

This change, that thus she veils her drooping head? 



230 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

It was but very now she shin'd as fair 
As Venus' star; her glory might compare 
With Cynthia, burnish'd with her brother's hair. 

There was no cave-begotten damp that mought 
Abuse her beams ; no wind that went about 
To break her peace ; no puff to put her out. 

Lift up thy wondering thoughts, and thou shalt 

s py 

A cause will clear thy doubts, but cloud thine eye : 
Subjects must veil, when as their sov'reign's by. 

Canst thou behold bright Phcebus, and thy sight 
No whit impair'd? the object is too bright; 
The weaker yields unto the stronger light. 

Great God, I am thy taper, thou my sun ; 
From thee, the spring of light, my light begun; 
Yet if thy light but shine, my light is done. 

If thou withdraw thy light, my light will shine : 
If thine appear, how poor a light is mine ! 
My light is darkness, if compar'd to thine. 

Thy sunbeams are too strong for my weak eye ! 
If thou but shine, how nothing, Lord, am I ! 
Ah! who can see thy visage, and not die! 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 231 

If intervening earth should make a night, 

My wanton flame would then shine forth too 

bright; 
My earth would e'en presume to eclipse thy light. 

And if thy light be shadow'd, and mine fade, 
If thine be dark, and my dark light decay'd, 
I should be clothed with a double shade. 

What shall I do? O what shall I desire? 
What help can my distracted thoughts require, 
That thus am wasted 'twixt a double fire? 

In what a strait, in what a strait am I ! 

'Twixt two extremes, how my rack'd fortunes lie : 

See I thy face, or see it not, I die. 

O let the steams of my Redeemer's blood, 
That breathes from my sick soul, be made a cloud, 
To interpose these lights, and be my shroud. 

Lord, what am I! or what's the light I have! 
May it but light my ashes to their grave, 
And so from thence to thee; 'tis all I crave. 

O make my light, that all the world may see 
Thy glory by 't : if not, it seems to me 
Honour enough to be put out by thee. 



232 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

O light inaccessible, in respect of which my 
light is utter darkness ; so reflect upon my weak- 
ness, that all the world may behold thy strength! 
O majesty incomprehensible, in respect of which, 
my glory is mere shame : so shine upon my mise- 
ry, that all the world may behold thy glory! 



Epig. 7. 
Wilt thou complain, because thou art bereav'n 
Of all thy light? wilt thou vie lights with Heav'n? 
Can thy bright eye not brook the daily light? 
Take heed : I fear, thou art a child of night, 



THE LIFE'OF MAN* 



233 



8, 




Nee virtus obscura petit. 
Virtue can ne'er in this dark shade delight : 
Poor is that worth which hides its useful light* 

MATT. V. 16. 

Let your light so shine, that men, seeing your good 
works, may glorify your Father which is in hea- 
ven, 

W as it for this, the breath of Heav'n was blown 
Into the nostrils of this heav'nly creature? 

Was it for this, that sacred Three in One 
Conspir'd to make this quintessence of nature? 



234 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Did heav'nly Providence intend 
So rare a fabric for so poor an end? 

Was man, the highest masterpiece of nature, 
The curious abstract of the whole creation, 

Whose soul was copy'd from his great Creator, 
Made to give light, and set for observation, 
Ordain'd for this? to spend his light 

In a dark lantern, cloister'd up in night? 

Tell me, recluse monastic, can it be 
A disadvantage to thy beams to shine? 

A thousand tapers may gain light from thee: 
Is thy light less or worse for lightening mine? 
If wanting light I stumble, shall 

Thy darkness not be guilty of my fall? 

Why dost thou lurk so close? Is it for fear 

Some busy eye should pry into thy flame, 
And spy a thief, or else some blemish there? 
Or, being spy'd, shrink'st thou thy head for 
shame? 
Come, come, fond taper, shine but clear, 
Thou need'st not shrink for shame, nor shroud for 
fear. 

Remember, O remember, thou wert set 
For men to see the great Creator by ; 

Thy flame is not thine own; it is a debt 
Thou ow'st thy Master. And wilt thou deny 
To pay the int'rest of thy light? 

And skulk in corners, and play least in sight? 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 235 

Art thou afraid to trust thy easy flame 
To the injurious waste of fortune's puff? 

Ah! coward, rouse, and quit thyself for shame: 
Who dies in service, hath liv'd long enough : 
Who shines, and makes no eye partaker, 

Usurps himself, and closely robs his Maker. 

Make not thyself a pris'ner, that art free : 
Why dost thou turn thy palace to a jail ? 

Thou art an eagle : and befits it thee 
To live immured like a cloister'd snail? 
Let toys seek corners; things of cost 

Gain worth by view: hid jewels are but lost. 

My God, my light is dark enough at lightest, 
Increase her flame, and give her strength to 
shine : 
'Tis frail at best; 'tis dim enough at brightest; 
But 'tis its glory to be foiPd by thine : 
Let others lurk : my light shall be 
Propos'd to all men; and by them to thee. 



T66 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

S. Bern. 
If thou be one of the foolish virgins, the con- 
gregation is necessary for thee ; if thou be one of 
the wise virgins, thou art necessary for the con- 
gregation. 

Hugo, 
Monastics make cloisters to inclose the outward 
man : O would to God they would do the like to 
restrain the inward man ! 



jEpjg. 8. 
Afraid of eyes? what, still play least in sight? 
'Tis much to be presum'd all is not right : 
Too close endeavours bring forth dark events : 
Come forth, monastic 3 here's no parliaments* 






THE LIFE OF MAN. 

9. 



237 




Ut luna, infantia torpet. 
Cold, like the moon, are these thy infant days: 
But Phoebus soon shall warm thee with his rays. 

JOB XIV. 2. 

He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down, 

JJEHOLD, 

How short a span 

Was long enough of old 

To measure out the life of man ; 

In those well-temper'd days ! his time was then 

Hirvey'd, cast up, and found but threescore years 

and ten. 



238 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Alas! 

And what is that? 

They come, and slide, and pass, 

Before my pen can tell thee what. 

The posts of time are swift, which having run 

Their seven short stages o'er, their short-liv'd task 

is done. 

Our days 

Begun we lend 

To sleep, to antic plays 

And toys, until the first stage end : 

12 waning moons, twice five times told, we give 

To unrecover'd loss: we rather breathe than live. 

We spend 

A ten years' breath 

Before we apprehend 

What 'tis to live, or fear a death : 

Our childish dreams are fill'd with painted joys, 

Which please our sense awhile, and, waking, prove 

but toys. 

How vain, 

How wretched, is 

Poor man, that doth remain 

A slave to such a state as this! 

His days are short, at longest; few at most: 

They are but bad, at best ; yet lavish'd out, or lost. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 239 

They be 

The secret springs 

That make our minutes flee 

On wheels more swift than eagles' wings : 

Our life's a clock, and every gasp of breath 

Breathes forth a warning grief, till Time shall 

strike a death. 

How soon 

Our new-born light 

Attains to full-ag'd noon! 

And this, how soon to grey-hair'd night! 

We spring, we bud, we blossom, and we blast, 

Ere we can count our days, our days they flee so 

fast. 

They end 

When scarce begun ; 

And ere we apprehend 

That we begin to live, our life is done : 

Man, count thy days ; and, if they fly too fast 

For thy dull thoughts to count, count every day 

the last. 



240 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Our infancy is consumed in eating and sleeping ; 
in all which time, what differ we from beasts, but 
by a possibility of reason, and a necessity of sin ! 

O misery of mankind, in whom no sooner the 
image of God appeareth in the act of his reason, 
but the devil blurs it in the corruption of his 
will! 



Epig* 9. 

to the decrepid man. 

Thus was the first seventh part of thy few days 
Consumed in sleep, in food, in toyish plays: 
Know'st thou what tears thine eyes imparted then? 
Review thy loss, and weep them o'er again. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 



24i 




Proles tua, Maia, Inventus. 
Now, active, heedless, volatile, and eay, 
Are youth; the offspring of the laughing May. 

JOB XX. 11. 

His bones are full of the sin of his youth. 
The swift-wing'd post of Time hath now begun 
His second stage ; 
The dawning of our age 
Is lost and spent without a sun ; 
The light of reason did not yet appear 
Within the horizon of this hemisphere. 

R 



242 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

The infant will had yet no other guide 
But twilight sense ; 
And what is gain'd from thence, 
But doubtful steps that tread aside! 
Reason now draws her curtains; her clos'd eyes 
Begin to open, and she calls to rise. 



Youth's now disclosing buds peep out, and show 
Her April head; 
And from her grass-green bed, 
Her virgin primrose early blows ; 
Whilst waking Philomel prepares to sing 
Her warbling sonnets to the wanton spring. 



His stage is pleasant, and the way seems short, 
All strew'd with flowers; 
The days appear but hours, 
Being spent in time-beguiling sport. 
Her griefs do neither press, nor doubts perplex; 
Here's neither fear to curb, nor care to vex. 



His downy cheeks grow proud, and now disdains 
The tutor's hand ; 
He glories to command 
The proud-neck'd steed with prouder reins : 
The strong-breath'd horn must now salute his ear 
With the glad downfall of the falling dear. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 243 

Kis quick-nos'd army, with their deep-mouth'd 
x sounds, 
Must now prepare 
To chase the tim'rous hare, 
About his yet unmortgag'd grounds ; 
The ill he hates, is counsel and delay; 
And fears no mischief but a rainy-day. 

The thought he takes, is how to take no thought 
For bale nor bliss; 
And late repentance is 
The last dear penn'worth that he bought: 
He is a dainty morning, and he may, 
If lust o'ercast him not, be as fair a day. 

Proud blossom, use thy time : Time's headstrong 
horse 
Will post away. 
Trust not the following day, 
For every day brings forth a worse : 
Take time at best: believ't, thy days will fall 
From good to bad, from bad to worst of all. 



244 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

£. Am bros* 
Humility is a rare thing in a young man, there- 
fore to be admired: when youth is vigorous, 
when strength is firm, when blood is hot, when 
cares are strangers, when mirth is free, then pride 
swelleth, and humility is despised. 



Epig. 10. 

to the old man. 
Thy years are newly grey, his newly green ! 
His youth may live to see what thine hath seen: 
He is thy parallel : his present stage 
And thine are the two tropics of man's age. 




U5 



Jam ruit in Venerem. 
His strength increasing, now, he burns to prove 
The pleasing pains, and flatt'ring sweets of love. 

ECCLES. XI. 9. 

Rejoice, O young man, and let thy heart cheer thee, 
hut know, fyc. 

JHLow flux, how alterable is the date 
Of transitory things ! 
How hurried on the clipping wings 
Of Time, and driven upon the wheels of Fate! 



216 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

How one condition brings 
The leading prologue to another state ! 

No transitory things can last : 
Change waits on Time, and Time is wing'd with 

haste; 
Time present's but the ruin of Time past. 



Behold how change hath inch'd away thy span 5 
And how thy light doth burn 
Nearer and nearer to thine urn ! 
For this dear waste, what satisfaction can 

Injurious Time return 
Thy shortened days, but this the style of man? 

And what's a man? A cask of care, 
New-tunn'd and working : he's a middle stair 
'Twixt birth and death : a blast of full-ae'd air. 



His breast is tinder, apt to entertain 
The sparks of Cupid's fire, 
Whose new-blown flames must now inquire 
A wanton julep out, which may restrain 

The rage of his desire, 
Whose painful pleasure is but pleasing pain: 

His life's a sickness, that doth rise 
From a hot liver, whilst his passion lies 
Expecting cordials from his mistress' eyes. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 247 

His stage is strew'd with thorns, and deck'd with 
flowers ; 
His year sometimes appears 
A minute; and his minutes years: 
His doubtful weather's sunshine mix'd with 
showers ; 
His traffic, hopes and fears; 
His life's a medley, made of sweets and sours ; 

His pains reward his smiles and pouts; 
His diet is fair language mix'd with flouts; 
He is a nothing, all compos'd of doubts. 

Do, waste thine inch, proud span of living earth.. 
Consume thy golden days 
In slavish freedom ; let thy ways 
Take best advantage of thy frolic mirth; 

Thy stock of time decays, 
And lavish plenty still foreruns a dearth : 
The bird that's flown may turn at last; 
And painful labour may repair a waste, 
But pains nor price can call my minutes past. 



248 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Ben. 

Expect great joy when thou shalt lay down the 
mind of a child, and deserve the style of a wise 
man; for at those years childhood is past, but 
oftentimes childishness remaineth; and, what i» 
worse, thou hast the authority of a man, but the 
voice of a child. 



Epig. 11. 

TO THE DECLINING MAN. 

Why stand'st thou discontented? Is not he 
As equal-distant from the top as thee? 
What then may cause thy discontented frown ? 
He's mounting up the hill ; thou plodding down. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 



12. 




TJt Sol ardore virilu 
Now like the sun he glows with manly fire; 
Invokes the muse, and strikes the Thracian lyre. 

DEUT. XXXIII. 25. 

As thy days, so shall thy strength be. 

The post 

Of swift-foot time 

Hath now at length begun 

The kalends of our middle stage: 



250 HIEROGLYPHICS 6P 

The number'd steps that we have gone, do show 

The number of those steps we are to go : 

The buds and blossoms of our age 

Are blown, decay'd, and gone, 

And all our prime 

Is lost: [to boast. 

And what we boast too much, we have least cause 

Ah me! 

There is no rest : 

Our time is always fleeing, 

What rein can curb our headstrong hours? 

They post away : they pass we know not how : 

Our Now is gone, before we can say now : 

Time past and future's none of ours : 

That hath as yet no being ; 

And this hath ceas'd 

To be; 

What is, is only ours : how short a time have we ! 

And now 

Apollo's ear 

Expects harmonious strains, 

New-minted from the Thracian lyre; 

For now the virtue of the twy-fork'd hill 

Inspires the ravish'd fancy, and doth fill 

The veins with Pegasean fire: 

And now those sterile brains, 

That cannot show 

Nor bear 

Some fruits, shall never wear Apollo's sacred bow. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 251 

Excess 

And surfeit uses 

To wait upon these days; 

Full feed and flowing cups of wine 

Conjure the fancy, forcing up a spirit 

By the base magic of debauch'd delight ^ 

Ah! pity, twice-born Bacchus' vine 

Should starve Apollo's bays, 

And drown those muses 

That bless 

And calm the peaceful soul, when storms of care 

oppress. 

Strong light, 

Boast not those beams 

That can but only rise 

And blaze awhile, and then away : 

There is no solstice in thy day; 

Thy midnight glory lies 

Betwixt the' extremes 

Of night, 

A glory soil'd with shame, and fool'd with false 

delight. 



252 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Hast thou climbed up to the full age of thy 
few days? Look backwards, and thou shalt see 
the frailty of thy youth, the folly of thy child- 
hood, and the waste of thy infancy; look for- 
wards, thou shalt see the cares of the world, the 
troubles of thy mind, the diseases of thy body. 



Epig. 12. 



TO THE MIDDLE-AGED. 

Thou that art prancing on the lusty noon 
Of thy full age, boast not thyself too soon : 
Convert that breath to wail thy fickle state; 
Take heed, thou'lt brag too soon, or boast too late. 



THE LIFE OF MAN, 



253 



13. 




Et Martem spirat et Arma. 
And now, rejoicing in the loud alarms, 
He pants for war, and sighs for deeds of arms. 

JOHN III. 30. 

He must increase, but I must decrease, 

1 ime voids the table, dinner's done: 
And now our day's declining sun 
Hath hurried his diurnal load 
To the' borders of the western road ; 



254 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Fierce Phlegon, with his fellow-steeds, 
Now puffs and pants, and blows and bleeds, 
And froths and fumes, remembering still 
Their lashes up the' Olympic hill; 
Which, having conquer'd, now disdain 
The whip, and champ the frothy rein, 
And with a full career they bend 
Their paces to their journey's end: 
Our blazing taper now has lost 
Her better half; nature hath crost 
Her forenoon book, and clear'd that score, 
But scarce gives trust for so much more : 
And now the gen'rous sap forsakes 
Her seir-grown twig: a breath e'en shakes 
The down-ripe fruit; fruit soon divorc'd 
From her dear branch, untouch'd, unforc'd. 
Now sanguine Venus doth begin 
To draw her wanton colours in, 
And flees neglected in disgrace, 
Whilst Mars supplies her luke-warm place : 
Blood turns to choler : what this age ■ 
Loses in strength, it finds in rage : 
That rich enamel, which, of old, 
Damask'd the downy cheek, and told 
A harmless guilt, unask'd, is now 
Worn off from the audacious brow ; 
Luxurious dalliance, midnight revels, 
Loose riot, and those venial evils 
Which inconsiderate youth of late 
Could plead, now want an advocate: 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 255 

And what appear'd in former times 
Whisp'ring as faults, now roar as crimes; 
And now ail ye, whose lips were wont 
To drench their coral in the font 
Of fork'd Parnassus ; you that be 
The sons of Phoebus, and can flee 
On wings of fancy, to display 
The flag of high invention ; stay, 
Repose your quills; your veins grow sour, 
Tempt not your salt beyond her power; 
If your pall'd fancies but decline, 
Censure will strike at every line, 
And wound your names; the popular ear 
Weighs what you are, not what you were: 
Thus, hackney-like, we tire our age, 
Spur-gall'd with change from stage to stage. 



256 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Seest thou the daily light of the greater world ? 
when attained to the highest pitch of meridian 
glory, it stayeth not; but by the same degrees it 
ascended, it descendeth. And is the light of the 
lesser world more permanent? Continuance is 
the child of eternity, not of time. 



Epig. 13. 

to the young man. 
Young man, rejoice; and let thy rising days 
Cheer thy glad heart : think'st thou these uphill 

ways 
Lead to death's dungeon? No; but know withal . 
A rising's but a prologue to a fall. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 



257 



14. 




Invidiosa Senectus. 
Envious old age obscures thy feeble light, 
And gives thee warning of approaching night. 

JOHN XII. 35. 

Yet a little while is the light with you, 

1 he day grows old,thelow-pitch'd lamp hath made 

No less than treble shade, 
And the descending damp doth now prepare 

To uncurl bright Titan's hair; 



258 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

Whose western wardrobe now begins to unfold 

Her purples, fring'd with gold, 
To clothe his ev'ning glory, when the' alarms 
Of rest shall call to rest in restless Thetis' arms. 

Nature now calls to supper, to refresh 

The spirits of all flesh ; 
The toiling ploughman drives his thirsty teams 

To taste the slipp'ry streams : 
The droiling swineherd knocks away, and feasts 

His hungry whining guests : 
The box-bill ouzel, and the dappled thrush, 
Like hungry rivals, meet at their beloved bush. 

And now the cold autumnal dews are seen 

To cobweb ev'ry green ; 
And by the low-shorn rowens doth appear 

The fast-declining year : 
The sapless branches doff their summer suits, 

And wane their winter fruits ; 
And stormy blasts have forc'd the quaking trees 
To wrap their trembling limbs in suits of mossy 
freeze. 

Our wasted taper now has brought her light 

To the next door to night; 
Her sprightless flame, grown great with snuff, 
doth turn 

Sad as her neighb'ring urn : 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 259 

Her slender inch, that yet unspent remains, 

Lights but to further pains ; 
And, in a silent language, bids her guest 
Prepare his weary limbs to take eternal rest. 

Now careful age hath pitch'd her painful plough 

Upon the furrow'd brow ; 
And snowy blasts of discontented care 

Have blanch'd the falling hair : 
Suspicious envy, mix'd with jealous spite, 

Disturbs his weary night : 
He threatens youth with age; and now, alas! 
He owns not what he is, but vaunts the man he 
was. 

Grey hairs, peruse thy days ; and let thy past 

Read lectures to thy last : 
Those hasty wings, that hurried them away, 

Will give these days no day; 
The constant wheels of nature scorn to tire 

Until her works expire : 
That blast that nipp'd thy youth, will ruin thee ;, 
That hand that shook the branch, will quickly 
strike the tree. 



260 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

S. Chrys. 
Grey hairs are honourable, when the behaviour 
suits with grey hairs: but when an ancient man 
hath childish manners, he becometh more ridicu- 
lous than a child. 

Ben* 
Thou art in vain attained to old years, that re- 
peatest thy youthfulness. 



Epig. 14. 

TO TJTE YOUTH. 

Seest thou this good old man? He represents 
Thy future, thou his preterperfect tense : 
Thou goest to labours, he prepares to rest : 
Thou break'st thy fast, he sups; now which is 
best? 



THE LIFE OF MAN, 

15. 



251 




Plumb> us in Terram. 
The sun now sets ; all hopes of life are fled ; 
And to the earth we sink like weights of lead. 

PSALM XC. 10. 

The days of our years are threescore years and ten, 

S have I seen the' illustrious prince of light 
Rising in glory from his crocean bed, 
And trampling down the horrid shades of night, 
Advancing more and more his conq'ring head; 
Pause first, decline, at length begin to shroud 
His fainting brows within a coal-black cloud. 



262 HIEROGLYPHICS OF 

So have I seen a well-built castle stand 

Upon the tip-toes of a lofty hill, 

Whose active power commands both sea and land, 

And curbs the pride of the beleaguerers' will : 
At length her ag'd foundation fails her trust, 
And lays her tott'ring ruins in the dust. 

So have I seen the blazing taper shoot 

Her golden head into the feeble air; 

Whose shadow-gilding ray, spread round about, 

Makes the foul face of black-brow'd darkness 
fair : 
Till at the length her wasting glory fades, 
And leaves the night to her invet'rate shades. 



E'en so this little world of living clay, 
The pride of nature, glorified by art, 
Whom earth adores, and all her hosts obey, 
Allied to Heaven by his diviner part, 

Triumphs a while, then droops, and then decays ; 

And, worn by age, death cancels all his days. 

That glorious sun, that whilom shone so bright, 
Is now e'en ravish'd from our darken'd eyes : 
That sturdy castle, mann'd with so much might, 
Lies now a mon'ment of her own disguise : 
That blazing taper, that disdain'd the puff 
Of troubled air, scarce owns the name of snuff. 



THE LIFE OF MAN. 263 

Poor bedrid man ! where is that glory now, 
Thy youth so vaunted? where that majesty 
Which sat enthron'd upon thy manly brow? 
Where, where that braving arm? that daring eye? 

Those buxom tunes? those Bacchanalian tones? 

Those swelling veins? those marrow- flaming 
bones? 

Thy drooping glory's blurr'd, and prostrate lies, 
Grov'ling in dust: and frightful horror, now, 
Sharpens the glances of thy gashful eyes; 
Whilst fear perplexes thy distracted brow: 
Thy panting breast vents all her breath by groans, 
And death enerves thy marrow-wasted bones. 

Thus man that's bora of woman can remain 
But a short time: his days are full of sorrow; 
His life's a penance, and his death's a pain; 
Springs like a flower to-day, and fades to-morrow : 

His breath's a bubble, and his day's a span; 

'Tis glorious misery to be born a man! 



264 HIEROGLYPHICS. 

Cypr. 
When eyes are dim, ears deaf, visage pale, 
teeth decayed, skin withered, breath tainted, 
pipes furred, knees trembling, hands fumbling, feet 
failing; the sudden downfall of thy house is near 
at hand. 

S. August* 

All vices wax old by age : covetousness alone 
groweth young. 



Epic. 15. 

to the infant. 
What he doth spend in groans, thou spend'st in 

tears : 

Judgment and strength's alike in both your years ; 
He's helpless; so art thou; what diff'rence then? 
He's an old infant; thou, a young old man. 



FINIS. 



PrtntetJ at t^e Cl)i0totcfe Prcgg, 

EY C. WHITTINGHAM. 



THK 

&cl)oolof tt)e$eatt; 

■jg OR, 

! HI! HEAR! OF ITSELF GONE AWAY FROM GOD: 

^ 'j GHT BACK AGAIN TO HIM; AND 

INSTRUCTED BY HIM. 

• WITH THE 

I EARNING OF THE HEART; 

HIEROGLYPHICS OF THE LIFE OF MAN. 



FRANCIS QX7ARLES, 

MB LI ;, Divine and Moral" 



Printer at it)t £fy$toic'k Pregtf, 

BY C. WHITTINGHAM; 
. M v, HURST, REES, OR ME, AND BROWN J 
• ii rd and letterman; SUTTABY, EVANT E, 

!()X; W* BUTTON ' r SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND 
SHABPl AND HAILESj AND WILLIAMS 
' U SON, LONDON. ^HH 



1812. 



'' 'J^^ 



nm 



-S* Jusi P uiii *hcd t i.% Two iuet Pocket Volm, *s, will Jul EmbeUkh- 
*--:*• mats, Prict L0.« in Boards, 

7 : The HISTORY of the HOLY BIBLE. 

_5g A8 contained in the Sacred Scriptures of the Old an J Se\ 
~^2» Testaments. In easy Verse. 

M ' WITH OCCASIONAL NOTES, 

•=& Including a tourist Rtiathn of- fhc. Sacred Hishry, from hi 
• ^p Birth of Cramim to {,'.: Tift. .« • • ," out I • ■ .{ and Saviour 

•2J3J . ESl f S xUIULSr, •, hu Apostles. 

3§t -''■ -ng ■ ■<!' :>m: ricmoraM. ; ctioo3/ 

- ~ ' .iii^ iiie S i.e of u »ve 4 J ■■ v : 

: BY J<>H* FELLOWS, 

■5gJ '" > > VBACti TKilMFHA\ir 4 Poem 

~p£ -4&0, m 2kro wear Itafc/ F<?/«, - ., . rV/i ('■[ J mbeiliihn nt ; 
_^| v » Price &?. m Boards, 

"Hi The LIFE of our blessed Lord and Sax io 
J§ JESUS CHRIST: 

4; ^iVT HEROTC POEM, IN TEN BOO\ . 



BY SAMUEL WESLEY, M.A. 

Anchor of "The History of the Holy Bible;' S$c, 

In Too Volumes, Foolscap 8vo. Pric LGJ in Boards, 
A NEW EDITION OF 

MAXIMS 

OPINIONS, AND CHARACTERS, 
vJ, Political, and Economical, 1 

!.. M THE WORKS OF THE 

IGHr HON. J DM UNO BURKE. 

Embelli'lted with a Portrait of 'he Author, and a Fac-SinuJ- 
< his Hand-Writing. 



-^j PKiMED FOR SCATCHERD A^JD LE TERMXN, AVE MAMA 
"3|[g LANE; AND >H\RPE AND HAIL S, PJ< \' ii I v 



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